Ar tonelico 2: Suckage of Metafalss
by burakkichu
Summary: Because Metafalss sucks. Starring my own characters. Makes fun of the original At2 cast. My own characters are made fun of, too. And lastly, like that bald-headed kid from the Matrix said: "There is no fourth wall"....or something like that.
1. Stuff You Didn't See In The Game

Metafalss, the land of chaos. A land of unrest, of lost dreams, of general unhappiness. A land where pizza deliveries are never on time, only adding more to the unhappiness and dissatisfaction of the people. Then again, being that this is A.D. 3772, it's likely that none of the Metafalssians even know of such a thing as pizza. Wow. Really sucks to be them. What do they eat, then, on Friday nights when they just want to order out for food because nobody at home wants to cook? What kind of delivery cuisines do they have to choose from out there on the Rim? Do they even have such a thing as Friday nights? What does--

Okay, this is starting to get sidetracked. Let's try this again.

Metafalss, the land of chaos. A land of unrest, of lost dreams, of general unhappiness. A land where milk always curdles before the expiration date, only adding more to the unhappiness and dissatisfaction of--

Dangit.

All right, let's just skip the grandiose, sweeping intro then, shall we? You've played the game, right? You know what kind of a land Metafalss is, right? Good. Then you already know that it sucks to live there, for most people. 'Kay, let's move ahead.

A cursed land....a land that's just crying out for some heroes and heroines to come save it and make it a shining, happy place for all of it's people. Like most other game worlds. They're always suffering. Why is no game world ever happy, dangit?? All these make-believe worlds where all this suffering is going on and all these bad guys running around making those game world citizens miserable....isn't it enough that our own real world is miserable enough? Why?? Why must we face the misery again even within our own entertainment?!? When will--

Oh, hang on a second. Animal Crossing is a happy place. So is Cooking Mama's kitchen. Okay, points taken.

And hm, there's really no actual "bad guy" in Ar tonelico 2, per se. Just short-sighted politicians. Then again, more often than not that's bad enough, eh?

Okay, okay, back to the heroes and heroines. The miserable land needs to be healed of its hurts and wounds and regenerated into a healthier place for all its people -- with rainbows, bell choirs, uncurdled milk, and everything. Because that'd be, like, _good_ and stuff. And it's a good thing that there's heroes and heroines out there in that Metafalssian chaos who have the will, the desire, and the power to heal that land. Like an ace-rookie Grand Bell knight who has more heart than he lets on, and who always wears glasses except when he's in combat -- which is when he probably needs them the most. Or a selfish and bratty Holy Maiden stateswoman who isn't so selfish and bratty as she seems at first, once you get to know her....provided you don't slap her for her attitude within the first two minutes. Or a poor-but-talented Dive Therapist who is skilled at helping to heal others' emotional wounds....and who isn't skilled at very much else, but, "That's OK", as they say in the therapy biz.

Yep, good thing that there are folks like that out there in this world.

Because most of the rest of the Metafalssians are just out for themselves. Like this chucklehead, for instance:

--*--*--*--

A young and scruffy-looking adventurer stood, a tad uncomfortably, before an elegantly-dressed noblewoman of high status -- and of high harido -- within the receiving room of her opulent house nestled within a well-to-do district of Pastalia. She was one of the lucky few for whom life in Metafalss didn't suck. He was jealous. But for the present, he had to keep that feeling to himself, and put his best foot forward while in this noblewoman's presence. Not an easy thing for him to do, personally. But when money was involved, he could make himself do just about anything -- and right now there was money-making business at hand.

Seated before him on a big, poofy, expensive-looking couch, the noblewoman continued.

What's that?

Yeah, continued.

Well, they'd already been talking for some time before we came in.

What? You'd like to know what they'd been talking about before this moment?

Too bad -- not everything has to be spelled out in explicit detail in literature, ya know. You'll get the idea, just read on.

"Well....I think we about have an agreement, Mr. Doof," she said.

The adventurer grinned, ignoring the mispronunciation of his name....which he'd heard only for about the 13th time during this meeting. But he didn't think little nobodies like him went around correcting their social and economic betters. "Thank you very much, ma'am. You won't be disappointed," he told her.

"Mm, yes, I'd better not be. But -- you've given me many reassurances that you and your team are quite capable."

He nodded. "Thank you. Like I said before, we aren't new to--"

She cut him off mid-sentence, the way people who are aware of their own greater status are wont to do. "It's not often you find a freelance adventurer such as yourself paired with an experienced Reyvateil partner. And yet, there's even another member of your team with his own partner as well!"

"Yes, ma'am." It felt weird to have her call him and his gang of adventurers a 'team'. Those guys? No way.

"Ah, Reyvateils...." she exhaled. Her eyes seemed to glaze over momentarily as she apparently became lost in some fond wishful thinking of some sort. The adventurer looked away, wondering what kind of thoughts she could be thinking about Reyvateils that would inspire such a wistful look. He hoped it might be something perverted.

The noblewoman shook herself out of it. "They really are the noblest of all our citizens in this cursed land of ours."

"Yep, they are," he lied. Crap. She was thinking of something pure and noble. Maybe she ought to try getting blasted by song magic from one of those noble citizens sometime.

She smiled -- a very thin, barely perceptible rich-lady smile. "I'm glad we feel the same way."

The adventurer made not a sign. Pure poker face.

"It reassures me that you're not going to be the type who just runs off with my money and wastes it on women and booze," she went on.

"No, ma'am. I'm a man of character."

She slowly looked him up and down. His messy, beat-up clothes, his unkempt hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in days, his headband that was supposed to look adventure-ish but looked more like a bad fashion statement....and were those girlie tattoos peeking out from underneath his three-quarter length sleeves? Not to mention that three-quarter length sleeves were typically women's apparel.

"You certainly do have _character_, young man," she said, losing her smile. "Nevertheless, I will take you into my service." She rose from off her pricey couch. "You don't happen to have a telecell, do you?" she said doubtfully.

"Oh yes, ma'am. Both my partner and I do."

Her eyes widened. "I'm impressed." Telecells were pretty hard to come by for the average NPC in this world. Sure, they're overabundantly common in our real world....annoyingly so. But this place is a different story. Let's see....lookup....lookup....terminology lookup.....ah, here we are, "Telemo". Most telecells were government issue to the Grand Bell knights, and there's no indication that telecells were commonly available to the general public. Which makes sense given that Metafalss' economy probably sucks. So most likely they're either not cheap or most commoners are simply too poor to get one. Okay now....exit menu....exit game.....turn off console. Research can be a pain.

The adventurer made a stab at bluffing his way past her impressed-ness, hoping to avoid the question of how exactly he got his impoverished mitts on not one but two telecells. "All part of the adventurer trade, ma'am," he said.

"Not from what I've seen," she replied.

Crap. She wasn't buying it.

"Well, we try to stay ahead of the curve," he tried.

"I understand," she nodded.

Whew.

"Well good," she said, "then you will be able to keep in touch with me regularly about your progress. I expect it."

"Yes, ma'am."

Their meeting drew to a close as they wrapped up some final details, including the financial transaction, and to stay in contact they also exchanged telecell tunes. Yeah, tunes instead of numbers. Makes sense, huh?

Yes? No?

Oh, come on! Just because it's not officially documented anywhere in the Ar tonelico canon that telecells are dialed by tunes doesn't mean it can't be made up. It's called being creative. You've tried it before, haven't you? Fun, isn't it?

As he prepared to exit, he bowed slightly as he began, "Thank you very much, it's our pleasure to ser--"

"No, thank _you_, Mr. Doof. Good luck, and Goddess be with you."

Cut off again.

"Yes ma'am, you too."

--*--*--*--

"Frickin' Goddess! The people I have to put up with for money," he thought to himself as he stood on the train on his way back to Rakshek.

Okay, like eating your vegetables, exposition is no fun, but it has to be done at some point, for the sake of a healthy body, or story. So hold your nose and swallow, because here we go...

Actually, vegetables are pretty tasty on pizza. But alas, this is Metafalss. No pizza.

'Kay, now here we _really_ go...

His name was Lance Deufe, adventurer for hire. The 'Deu' portion of his name was properly pronounced 'dough', but perenially mispronounced as 'doo' by the uninformed, which included most of those who read his name in advertisement listings of adventurers for hire, and subsequently contacted him and his party asking if they could please speak with a Mr. Lance Doof. He got tired of correcting people long ago. He considered it as one of his many curses in life, to be stuck with a name so easily made to sound goofy. And it didn't help that a certain Reyvateil someone never got tired of the joke.

Then again, his name's kinda goofy anyway, no matter how you read it.

Twenty years old, still in the prime of his life, he scraped out a living doing adventure-type stuff on behalf of those too unskilled, or important, or lazy, or delicate, or fat, or old, or sickly, or young, or scared, or busy, or stupid, or clumsy, or....you get the picture. Those who can't or won't do it for themselves, for whatever reason. Adventuring's _kinda_ hard, really. He doubted he would have survived this long without his Reyvateil partner. Even after all this time, he still sucked at hand-to-hand combat. Oh, he knew enough to get the job done, more or less, but one of those Grand Bell knights could dust him easily, that's for sure. But the adventurer's pay was often really good. Folks knew the business was dangerous, and they were glad to hand over a fistful of leaves to guys like Lance to take care of their wants or needs for them. Yet the expenses were often really bad. Weapons, armor, healing items, food, diquility, dualithnode crystals, inns, girly bath stuff, booze, perverted doujinshi. So even after all that work and all that pain, he was still poor. Sucked to be him.

There now. That wasn't so bad, was it?

The train finally pulled up to the station at Axis Courtyard. After disembarking, he glanced over the plaza. It was crowded, as usual, but there at the base of Raksha he spotted his gang of adventurers and went to join them. Another fighter like himself, two Reyvateils, and a female fighter. She was the new girl of the group, but she was better at combat than both of the guys put together. Fantasy female fighters tend to be that way. She was younger than both of them, too. The guys felt inadequate around her, poor saps.

Oop, some more exposition got out there without adequate warning. Oh well -- deal.

Thinking about the nice, fat infusion of cash he just procured from Miss Noblewoman From Pastalia, who had put so much faith in him, he loudly declared to his Reyvateil partner:

"Hey! Woman! Let's go get some booze!"

"O-Okay! Yay!" the short, brown-haired girl cheered in her sweet and cute-sounding voice, even adorably smiling and raising her tiny fists in the air and everything. She was nineteen.

Yeah, they're both underage. Like that really stops people?

Noticing Lance's cheery look, the other guy asked, "You got the job, then?" His name was Burl, and he went by Burl. Yep, Burl. Sounds manly, eh? Not really -- he was about as manly as Lance.

"Nah, just thought I'd waste the last bit of our cash on me an' Cloche here," he said...um...sarcastically? 'Sarcastically' feels so overused.

"Awesome. Then lemme go waste it with you," he replied. Okay, so he caught on.

"Hey!" the other Reyvateil with feisty, strawberry blonde pigtails spoke up. "I wanna waste some too!" People usually called her Kanna. Burl sometimes called her pervy names while cruising around in her Cosmosphere. How he has avoided getting slapped with a Critical Down so far is a mystery.

Lance gave them a cold look. "I don't remember inviting you guys."

"Thbbbtt!!" Kanna spat, giving her tongue some fresh air.

"Mature," he said.

Kanna and her feisty pigtails were unfazed. "Look who's talking! Anyway I'm hungry!"

"Talk to your man," Lance said lazily, wrapping his arm around his Reyvateil partner's small shoulders and starting to walk off in the general direction of a local tavern. Burl followed suit, walking alongside.

"You have the cash!" Kanna declared, following behind. Persistent, ain't she?

Lance blithely pulled out a few high-denomination Leaves from his stash and held them up, which Burl promptly pocketed.

"Now he does, too."

The female fighter trailed behind them silently as they all headed off to celebrate their newest job by getting juiced. Her name was C.P. She didn't talk much. When she did talk, it was usually to make sardonic comments, which made her a rather charming conversationalist.

Joke. Laugh.

Her long dark hair tied back in a braid, she walked along smoothly, thinking about the job ahead, and not booze, because she didn't drink. She just never picked up the habit. Besides, it's hard to be a good fighter when you're drunk. Unless you're some kind of Drunken Master. Which she wasn't. So she liked to have her wits available just in case. You never know what can happen at a Rakshek tavern, especially with these guys. Why, just the other day she had to bail the others out of a song magic duel that they were losing pretty badly, which all started when a drunken Lance was caught leering and drooling over another Reyvateil's--

Huh?

Oh! You're still wondering about the "Cloche" Lance mentioned quite a ways back? Sorry for getting off track. Yep, Cloche is his Reyvateil partner's name, and obviously this is a different Cloche, not our 33rd Holy Maiden of the Grand Bell. She just shares the same name as our Lady, but none of her characteristics, poor girl. And if it wasn't obvious before, read back a-ways. This Cloche is a brown-haired girl. And she's nineteen. Not our Lady Cloche.

Speaking of which, Cloche turned demurely to Lance. "So did my blouse help cover up your tattoos?" she asked.

Lance recoiled. "Gech! Don't call it a blouse while I'm wearing it! Makes me wanna take it off!"

"How does it even fit you anyway?" Kanna blared from behind. Lance was a fairly scrawny guy, but Cloche was smaller still.

"It's stretchy," he said.

"Well, you can take it off _now_," said Cloche. "Here's your shirt." She held out a folded and cleaned article of adventurer's clothing to him. Aw, ain't she sweet, taking care of her man's things like that?

Lance put on a pouty face. "But...I wanna keep this on."

"Eh? Why?"

"It's your clothes. It's special."

"But it's gotta be uncomfortable."

"Yeah, and you threw such a fit over putting it on in the first place," said Kanna. Then she added, deepening her voice to a mockingly-manly pitch, 'I don't wanna wear girl's clothes'..."

"Well now I do because it's hers, so there."

"But wouldn't you feel better in this?" She offered him again his regular clothes.

"You watch, Cloche. He's going somewhere pervy with this. I can smell it."

"What could be so perverted about a blouse?" she wondered aloud.

Lance said nothing, but picked up his pace a little, trying to distance himself before he was cornered.

She caught him firmly by the arm before he could get far. Too late.

"Well??" she insisted, while still emanating a general sense of cuteness.

How could he resist such a glare?

So he slowly admitted, "Um....uh, well....it's just....your breast-ises have touched the inside of this, and I wanna keep them close to my heart for as long as--"

"Aaaah!" Cloche squealed, going absolutely red in the face. She dropped his own clothes and grabbed the blouse, tugging at it hard, trying to yank it off Lance. "Give it back! Give it back!"

Now that it was out, he no longer cared, laughing as he was being jostled about, "You made me say it! You made me admit to it!"

"Give it baaack!"

"You're gonna rip it, and it's your blouse!" he laughed.

She let go, but raised her hands as if preparing to sing. "I'll blast you!" she threatened.

"And torch your own clothes?"

Kanna and Burl decided that this was a good time to leave them and let them fight it out on their own. Just in case Cloche actually blasted him. Wasn't likely, though -- she was usually the good girl. Usually.

C.P., however, finally spoke as she walked past. Yep, finally -- dialogue from the girl of few words.

"Mature," she said.

Oh well, only one word. There'll be more later.


	2. Adventure Is Never Without Stupidity

Metafalss, the land of chaos. A land of unrest, of lost dreams, of general--

Oh, oops. Wrong chapter.

The late evening sun was just now setting over the gentle, rolling hills of Johto. In the air, carried on the breeze, could be heard the small sounds of the hidden Pokemon in the woods who were--

What th--??

Who switched out the notes??

Well, considering that there's no one else here, it must be....

Sheesh. Can't get organized for nothin'. Sorry folks, wrong fic. Let's shuffle these papers around a little bit here....ah, here we go.

Fifteen minute's walk or so from the Axis Courtyard along the dumpier streets of Rakshek brought one to a little hole-in-the-wall tavern called the Pippen Pub. It had been--

Okay yeah, this is the right fic.

--It had been around for a long time now, well-worn in by the weath--

Huh? Yes, this _is_ the right fic! What, does "Pippen Pub" sound silly? You're not the only one to think so. Half of Rakshek does too. That's why the place never took off like Bonbertan. None of the cool kids wanted to be seen there. "Pippen Pub". Who thought of a name like that anyway?

Um....what are you looking at?

_Anyway,_ it had been around for a long time now, well-worn in by the weather, the people, the smoke, the many fist-fights that had broken out over the years, and the occasional discolored spot on the floor where someone could no longer hang onto their lunch after just a tad too much of the fermented stuff. It was cheap, too. That's what mattered most to goofs like Lance and his gang of misadventurers. Cheap stuff was good, even if it wasn't, well, _good_. Paradoxically.

There was lots of wooden stuff in the place, too. Floors, beams, chairs, tables, even sandwiches. No, really. The termites loved 'em. Anyway, all the wooden stuff gave the place, as they say, "character". And as you well know, these types of establishments in fantasy games gotta have "character", right? Right.

And yes, there was also lots of Pippen stuff too. That alone might make our Lady Cloche of Pastalia a fan of the place.

As Lance and company walked in, a young barmaid cheerfully called out from behind the bar, "Welcome, effendi!"

Lance winced. "Ghgk! I hate it when they do that here."

Cloche, however, waved and, giggling, cheerfully called back, "Effendi!"

There was nowhere for Lance to hide.

They all found their usual table and gathered 'round. It was dirty, as usual. They didn't notice, or didn't care, as usual. C.P. ordered her usual glass of milk while the others ordered their usual tasty beverages that none of them were legally old enough to drink. As usual, nobody really cared at this place, so long as they had the leaves. When their drinks came, however, C.P. took a usual first look into her glass, sighed, and glumly pushed it away.

"What?" said Kanna.

"Curdled," muttered C.P. As usual.

Aren't you just tired of the same old usual??

Burl turned to Lance. "So what's the job this time?" he asked before taking a swig.

"Diggin' up Hymn Crystals," Lance proudly announced, beaming.

Hymn Crystals. Sparkly stuff of legend. Get'cher hands on one and you could be famous. Or rich. Or both. Or, yeah, yeah, you could download the song and sing it to make really awesome stuff happen too. Spoilsport. Many people thought of the glittery fame-and-fortune aspect first, when they thought of Hymn Crystals. Let's face it, they were quite the rare and precious treasure. Sounds like a tempting quarry for a band of young fighters and singers in the adventure-for-profit biz, does it not?

A cloudy, doom-filled sense of melancholy came down over the party like an illness, as everyone let out a collective groan. Shoulders sagged, faces drooped. Hm. They appear less-than-enthused. Even a slow, sad Reyvateil song began wafting from the tavern's speakers. Nice touch.

"Thanks," said the barmaid.

Huh? Um--

Burl set down his glass and made a face. "Again?? Those things are impossible to find."

"Just _how_ many times have we tried to find one before?" Kanna complained.

"But wait--"

Lance's "But wait--" was overridden. "I'm not facing all those super-dangerous monsters again," whined Cloche.

"And I don't want no trouble from that rich lady if we can't find one!" Burl insisted. "Does she even _know_ how rare of a treasure that is?"

"Does she even _know_ where to find one?" Kanna said. Then she raised her arms in exasperation and looked skyward. "For that matter, do _we_ even know where to find one??"

"But I--"

"Lookit!" interrupted Kanna, pointing a finger. "If we could've found one by ourselves, we already would have by now! And then there'd be nooo need for us to be doing these kinds of jobs for these people!" Heh....3772 A.D., and they still use words like "lookit". Awesome.

"But, lemme just--"

Burl cut in. "And what's gonna happen to us _this_ time if we don't deliver any Crystals? Don't you remember what those guys did to us that last time? What they did to Cloche?"

Cloche suddenly grew visibly frightened. Everyone turned to her. The table grew eerily quiet.

"Poms!" Kanna suddenly blurted out, causing Cloche to emit a squeal of panic and dive under the table, knocking her chair over in the process.

"See? She's still traumatized!" declared Kanna, her argumentative pigtails flaring.

"But those guys were psycho--"

"How do we know this Pastalia lady isn't psycho? Cloche, my leg is not a teddy bear!"

A still shivering Cloche slowly emerged from beside Kanna and moved to sit back down in her chair beside her. Having been so startled, and failing to notice that her chair was no longer in her immediate vicinity, she promptly landed back on the floor butt-first, saying "Ow!" in the process.

And on, and on, and on it went. Poor Lance Deufe, adventurer for hire, found himself repeatedly hammered by criticism, complaining, and whining for the next few miserable minutes. There were even implied threats of mutiny, or of simply leaving the group altogether. Lance tried to think on his feet. Being that he was sitting down, it was rather difficult. Somebody play a rimshot. He thought fast, trying to keep his party from breaking apart. If he could not succeed, then he and his longtime companions could very well part ways right then and there in the fluffy dankness of the Pippen Pub, bringing a rather abrupt end to this fanfic. The stakes were high.

Time for C.P., the quiet teenage warrior-girl, to step up and say something....teenage warrior-girl-like. Okay, that was lame.

Finally, amidst all the bickering, C.P. slammed her hand down on the table a few times to get everyone's attention.

Kanna was flustered. "Hey! What'd the table ever do to you??"

C.P. spoke slowly in a firm voice. "Lance! Do you have a plan?"

Overjoyed, Lance lit up. No, the kind of "lit up" where his face shone with happiness, not the kind where -- anyway: "YES! _THANK_ you!" he exclaimed, pointing both indexes at C.P. in a crazy maneuver of joy. "I've been trying to tell you guys that I _actually, have, a plan!_"

Burl leaned back and folded his arms, looking thorougly unimpressed. "Oh really? This oughta be good. Spit it."

"Very simple. We ain't strong enough to get the Crystals ourselves. That's a given. So! All we gotta do is....keep our eyes and ears open for some other jokers who are also hunting for the Crystals.....adventurers stronger than us, better than us, who actually stand a chance at succeeding......follow along behind them secretly.....letting them beat all the big, bad monsters for us......and then, just as they are about to get a Crystal.....we swipe it from under their noses and run like hell!"

Lance grinned.

Everyone else was dead silent.

The slow, sad Reyvateil song had switched over to a goofy, bouncy ditty with lots of "pyon-pyons" and other silly sound effects.

"Easy, huh?" said Lance, like it was obviously the most brilliant idea he'd ever had.

It probably was.

But will it impress our band of hapless adventurers?

Slowly, silently, Burl curled himself over and placed his forehead on the table, then proceeded to knock it repeatedly. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Guess not.

Kanna let out a low moaning gurgle, sagging and drooping in her chair until she appeared to be melting.

Cloche seemed to withdraw into herself, fidgeting and biting her fingers, looking off into space nervously.

C.P. simply covered her eyes with her hand and sighed heavily.

Staring at the ceiling, barely even seated in her chair, with her arms raised once more in exasperation -- she liked to do that -- Kanna gave voice to some astute concerns. "WHAT kind of a PLAN is THAT?!" she cried. "WHO are we supposed to follow? HOW do we find them? WHAT makes you think they won't just beat us up too when we try to take the Crystal? IF we LIVE that long! What if the monsters KILL them and then come to kill us too?"

See? Astute.

Lance, however, suddenly stood up like a shot, his chair skidding backwards. Inspired by a sudden spark of adventurer's gusto, he decided to boldly speak from his heart....all the while hoping he wasn't going to sound like a complete frigging idiot. Good luck, pal.

"Adventure is never without risks!" he stated. "The risks are great, but the rewards are even greater! It may not be much of a plan to go on, but that's why they call it Adventure! Who knows what will happen when we get out there? Who's to say how it's gonna turn out, or what other kinds of loot we can find, or how maybe, just maybe, we might even grow stronger from it? All we can do is try. Even if we have sucky adventuring skills, so long as we don't give up, so long as we go after it with our whole heart, we may yet see something change for the better in the times ahead! Whaddya say? Wanna stay in for this? Wanna go on another adventure? Or would you rather just, leave here, go home, and do a lot of nothing with the rest of your lives?"

For a moment, no one said anything. The goofy, bouncy ditty had switched over to a rousing, stout-hearted anthem.

Kanna was the first one to speak. "Why do I feel like eating cheese all of a sudden?" she said.

"Lance, you've been watching too much of that new sports anime lately," said Cloche, as politely as she could.

Lance appeared to hear absolutely nothing. He slapped his hands down onto the table and cried, "But wait! There's more!"

"I don't think I can stand to hear anymore...." mumbled Kanna weakly.

"We actually don't have to find a Hymn Crystal at all!" he announced. "She doesn't just want Hymn Crystals only. She also wants a cut of whatever other loot we can get our hands on. It can be anything -- rare items, weird ancient technology, used girl's underpants -- so long as it has cash value that we can sell it for and give her a percentage. So, if Plan A fails and we don't get a Crystal, we always have Plan B: just find enough loot to where she doesn't worry about Crystals. She's a rich lady, she speaks the language of cash. We give her a good return on her investment -- all's well that ends well."

Lance straightened up. As if to signal that he was finished, he began adjusting his headband, attempting to straighten it out and make it look cool. It still looked wonky.

No one spoke, but the storm around the table seemed to grow calmer. Was the tide turning back towards camraderie? Was it turning?

Well of course it was turning. If it didn't turn, the party would have disbanded, and then this fanfic would be Ar toneli-toast. Sorry for that one. Couldn't resist. But you get the point. And you wouldn't want this fanfic to end so soon, would you? WOULD YOU??

In spite of the cheese, in the hearts of each one of them at the table still lay that thirst for adventure, that yearning for the thrill of the hunt, that hope for making bookoo cash which had spurned them on as they threw themselves into the dangerous places of Metafalss which everyday citizens dared not enter. It was a trade, and it was a living, but it was also the heartbeat of an adventurer.

So long as that heart kept beating and didn't get ripped out by some nasty dungeon monster.

Kanna stared resolutely at her drink, then grabbed the glass and chugged it with gusto. Slamming an empty glass down, she announced, "Even if we run through every dungeon on the Rim, and don't come out with a single leaf's worth of loot, I am NOT giving you my underpants!"

"Me neither," said Cloche.

"You'd die first," said C.P.

Burl made no comment. He may have had pervy tendencies himself, but even he thought that used girl's underpants were kinda gross.

Lance shot out a thumbs-up. "Yee! Got three girls with me now! How 'bout you, Burl?"

...._Yee?_

"If Kanna's still in, then I'm in. Can't leave my favorite Reyvateil to fend for herself all alone in the big bad dungeons now, can I?

Kanna shot him a look that could kill a nasty dungeon monster. _'Like YOU really know how to protect me,'_ her pigtails seemed to say. Burl momentarily quailed before their strawberry blonde ferocity.

Recovering, he then picked up his glass and raised it in a toast. "To loot!" he announced. They all joined in, clinking glasses amidst general murmurs of "To loot!" The stout-hearted anthem had switched over to a flowery little hippie-ditty about peace, love, togetherness and illegal drug use. It was a warm and pleasant Kodak moment.

Until Lance opened his mouth again. "To underpants!" he found himself saying amidst the toast. "Yeah, to und--no! Loot! I meant loo--!"

With lightning Reyvateil speed and cuteness, Cloche snapped up a big swig from her glass, then sprayed it all over his face.

Kanna, with her empty glass, and C.P., with her glass full of dairy nastiness, could only regard Cloche with a mixture of admiration and envy. They wished they could have done that, too.

With a flourish, Lance wiped away the misty blend of booze and his Reyvateil partner's cute dental germs from his eyes. "Ahh, refreshing!" he declared, trying to salvage some sense of dignity. "Kinda like your Springtime Rain song. Except it doesn't heal any wounds." He turned to address everyone. "Anyhoo! As your inspirational and dripping wet leader, I say that we bring this strategy meeting to a close, and take it easy and order us up another round of booze--"

As he moved to sit back down again, he failed to notice that his chair was no longer in his immediate vicinity, it having skidded back when he first stood up. Lance, however, gained bonus points by first banging his head on the table as he went down, before hitting the floor butt-first. He also said "Ow!" in the process.

Burl burst out in a long stream of "Heheheheheh!" noises. "Like fighter, like Reyvateil, idn't dat cuute?"

"Frickin' Goddess!!" a disembodied yowl came from somewhere off the floor. Some people just shouldn't bother with that dignity stuff.


	3. Life Sucks Mode

Metafalss, the land of Pippens. A soft and cuddly land of wars, chaos, and sucky government policies....but with a dash of cute stuff to keep the people happy. A land where Pippencuits are in plentiful supply, but are considered to be Pippen-food only. What a shame. They really do look quite tasty. Ever eaten anything that wasn't necessarily made for human consumption? It was once stated by someone that cat food in milk tastes a lot like breakfast cereal. Probably very _meaty_ breakfast cereal, but considering that much of the bulk of cat food is made of various grains, it actually makes some sense. No, really. Check the list of ingredients next time you're around a bag of cat food.

Down at Axis Courtyard, beneath the lovely Raksha surrounded by tacky Telemos, a small group of Pippens were sunning themselves in their baking-hot coats on a pleasant, sunny afternoon. For some reason. Maybe they just like to be hot. Kinda like cats -- despite their naturally-equipped fur coats, they love to lay in a sunbeam and bake. Or lay on top of the vent when the heater's running and suck up all the heat for themselves on a cold winter night. Why? WHY, DANGIT?? Some of us who DON'T have naturally-equipped fur coats NEED that heat! Sheesh! You'd think that cats would--

Wait, hold up one sec. Are Pippens supposed to be in Rakshek? There didn't seem to be any in the game. Perhaps they are only found in Pastalia and nearby local subdivisions? This could require research. A further look into the history, culture, and society of the realm of Metafalss. After all, this game's world has had a lot of craftsmanship put into its creation. To closely represent its creators' original intent would serve well to do it justice. Surely there may be a clue, hidden in a commentary somewhere on Metafalssian culture, that would shed some light on where Pippens generally--

Ahh, screw it. There's Pippens in Axis Courtyard. Accept it.

Meanwhile, Lance and his fellow goofballs were out shopping for supplies that they would need before heading out on their next--

"I'm not a goofball!" C.P. snarled.

Hey! No interrupting the narration from the characters! Or your character just might meet up with a Bad End!

C.P. said no more, but narrowed her eyes as her visage darkened into a menacing scowl. Yeah, yeah, threaten all you want....what're you gonna do, eh? The pen is TRULY mightier than the sword!!

Or, well, in this case, the keyboard is mightier. Geeky joke followed with polite chuckle.

Speaking of swords, actually C.P. didn't wield a sword at all. Her weapon was a deadly chain whip, which she kept decoratively slung across her body when not in use. Hm. Warrior girls and whips. Kinda seems to go together, right? But don't get any nyan-nyan ideas about C.P. That's so not her persona. You put nekomimi on her head, they'll just spontaneously incinerate. She's _that_ warrior-like.

"Hey!" complained Kanna. "What about the rest of us? You're spending all that time talking about C.P.! Are the rest of us just blah pencil sketches in your head?? I wanna have descriptive stuff said about me, too!"

"Yeah! Like what about _my_ weapon?" Lance said.

"And mine?" added Burl.

Grrgh!! Can't you guys read?? The text up above says 'No interrupting--'

Siiiiighhhhhhhhh....oh, forget it. It's whatever. It's not like all of you guys can meet up with a Bad End. See?? This is what happens when the characters butt in! Now this whole train of narrative text has been totally derailed. Thanks, C.P.

What about you, Cloche? Any comments you wanna share with the rest of us??

Cloche lowered her gaze uncertainly. "No," she mumbled, with an ever-so-subtle shake of her head.

Ahh, Cloche. So unassuming, so polite. So unlike our spike-heeled Lady Cloche of Holy Tsundere Maidens. Our sweet Cloche here would probably make a wonderful wife. And a really bad lover.

"POLITE?!?" bellowed Lance. "I seem to remember being spat upon!"

Okay, well there's _that_.

"And shaken around!"

That too. Okay, so maybe she's not all sugar-and-spice. Anyway, you guys wanted some descriptive notes added to your characters, right? So shut it already and let's move ahead!

Let's see....Lance's weapon. Heh, "Lance's weapon". It was an awesomely-cool-looking, and wholly impractical, double-ended sword. You know the kind. Seen one in a video game somewhere before? If not, surely you recall Darth Maul's nifty double-ended lightsaber? Yeah, sure, it looks cool and all that, but really, how long do you think it would take before he accidentally sliced a part of himself off when he was first learning how to wield it? Ditto that to Lance and his double-ended blade. Half the wounds Cloche healed on him were self-inflicted, oops.

Moving on to Burl. Full name: Burl Ides. Yes, he actually did have a family name before this fic even started. Hm....his weapon. No idea. Guess we'll just make something up. Spiked baseball bat shotgun, how's that? Now that's cool AND useful. Blast away foes with 12-gauge rounds from afar, or for close-range combat bash them in the head with a bat spiked with nails. And then--wait, what?? A shotgun that's also a baseball bat? That doesn't make any sense! Not to mention, do they even HAVE baseball in Metafal--

Ahh, screw it.

Kanna. Full name: Kanna Ileris. Why were the family names not revealed until the third chapter? She wields no weapon, though she probably should. Basic Red Magic attack: Angry Tantrum. Throws random heavy objects at high speed velocity at the adversary: chairs, expensive vases, bicycles, spacy-eyed lolis, 5-gallon buckets full of her personally-used bathwater -- hey, water's heavy; ever picked up a 5-gallon bucketful? Basic Blue Magic: Shut Up And Take Your Medicine. Very effective at healing wounds, but leaves an awful taste in one's mouth.

Cloche. Full name: Cloche Burr. Because their family names never came up in the narrative so far, and exposition can easily get dull, yet here we are having to wade through some more of it -- THANKS, C.P.! Back to Cloche. Sugar-and-spice, with a dash of cayenne pepper. Basic Red Magic attack: Ramen Food Fight. Slaps enemies with enormous gobs of steaming-hot wet noodles in soup. Burns like crazy, but not particularly damaging, though it can leave one feeling a bit icky. Basic Blue Magic: Springtime Rain. A pleasant, warm shower on a peaceful afternoon. Can lift one's soul as well....though getting soaked can leave one's body feeling a bit icky.

THERE.

HAPPY??!?

Can we get back to the Pippens now, please?

So, they were all out shopping for supplies and such for their next adventure. Everyone was bickering. The girls kept insisting that they purchase extra items and accessories that probably would have been very practical and really useful while out there on their own in the dungeons, while the guys kept complaining that they didn't wanna spend too much money, that they didn't wanna haul around all that excess junk, yet at the same time they had their eyes on all sorts of cool-and-expensive-but-largely-useless stuff that they wanted to try out in the field. Does this sound vaguely familiar? People....sheesh.

They decided to call a truce by splitting up into groups. Testosterone Group would hunt down the heavy essentials, while Estrogen Group would gather up the accessories to make life easier. Huh. Hunt, gather.....kinda seems reminescent of "hunter-gatherer", doesn't it? Oh sure, it's within a vastly different context, but.....sometimes, in some ways, doesn't it seem like some things just never change? Ugg.

What? Oh yeah! Pippens!

When suddenly, the guys passed by the group of Pippens. Lance stopped, looking down at them. He appeared to be pondering something. A rare moment.

"What, effendi?" one of them asked, not enjoying being so rudely stared at.

"So lemme get this straight," Lance began. "You're like a penguin. And penguins are like, built to withstand the cold. Yet here you are, wearing this big-ol heavy coat. And it's not even cold outside."

"I'm not a penguin, effendi. I'm a Pippen."

Silence followed. A long silence. The rusty gears appeared to be churning and squealing away inside Lance's head. The Pippens sat around doing a lot of blinking.

"Oh," Lance finally mumbled at last. Slowly he turned to wander away dazedly.

"You have Pippencuit?" one of them called to him.

"Ehh, sorry," he smiled back awkwardly. "My Reyvateil partner ate our last one."

Meanwhile, the girls were presently occupied with flinging small talk at each other, during which, Cloche's unhappy mood compelled her to give the readers a tiny glimpse of backstory -- regarding why she has such a famous name -- by whining about it.

"And speaking of fanboys," she said, "I dunno why my dad even named me after Lady Cloche. I mean, it's like -- look at me! I'm not all that pretty, I don't have big boobs, my hair's just plain brown not blonde, I can't even grow it out long 'cause it'll get all frizzy, I'm short, I've got short stumpy legs while hers are all long and beautiful. And I can't walk around in high heels. These boots are as close to heels as I'm ever gonna get." She stuck out a foot to display her footgear -- a standard, durable-yet-still-cute workboot for girls. Very practical for dungeon-crawling. Unlike Lady Cloche's high heels.

Kanna practiced her patience by grinding her teeth. This wasn't the first time she'd heard this rant. Or the second. Or the third. Or the fourth. Or the--

"Cloche, dear," she managed to say without growling like a garbage disposal, "it doesn't matter that you have the same name as Lady Cloche. A name's just a name, but you're still you."

Gee, guess that was it for the Pippens. Oh well.

"Yeah, I'm still me," Cloche said pathetically. "Oh, what a joy to be plain, boring ol' me."

Kanna restrained a sudden impulse to find a very short cliff to throw Cloche off of. Short, because she didn't _really_ want to hurt Cloche. Much.

You felt that final 'much' coming, didn't you?

"Well, it could always be worse," Kanna offered. _I could be throttling you right now, for instance._ But when that thought actually came out of her mouth, it sounded something like, "You wouldn't wanna actually _be_ Lady Cloche, would you? All that responsibility. All that politics. All that war-against-the-Goddess stuff. I bet she hates her life."

"I bet she doesn't have to go wandering around dungeons with nasty monsters just to make a living, either."

Will nothing give this woman the least bit of cheer?

Nope. Not a thing. She was running in "Life Sucks" mode right now.

"Who's worried about monsters? We have C.P. with us now, and she's much better than the guys!"

"Don't rely on me to do all the fighting."

"Boo."

"What about you guys? Don't you get stronger through diving with your partners?"

Did you follow those last few lines of dialogue without needing to be told who the speaker was?

Kanna and Cloche didn't reply at first, but both of them began blushing. An unexpected silence followed.

C.P. broke the pause with a: "What?"

Cloche looked down uncomfortably at the ground, while Kanna said with a rather awkward grin, "You're not supposed to dive and tell....least I don't like to anyway."

C.P. sighed and closed her eyes, annoyed. Freaking touchy Reyvateils. "Is it really all that embarrassing?"

"Well....no offense, but, you don't really know what it's like because you're not a Reyvateil."

_Thank Goddess for that,_ thought C.P.

"I don't know if I could ever create stronger magic, anyway," Cloche moaned. "I don't like feeling......you know." She glanced at Kanna briefly. "Like _that._"

Kanna nodded knowingly. "Yeah......it's pretty rough," she said softly.

As they ended with those mysterious and squishy-sounding comments, C.P. was left with no clue what they were talking about. Rather than try to figure it out, she instead fought to restrain a sudden impulse to find a very short cliff to throw these Reyvateils off of.

For all you perverts out there, what they were actually referring to was the intense emotional experience that is a part of creating stronger song magic. It's a skoosh uncomfortable, especially for someone like Cloche who tends to shy away from strong fits of passion. Now say "Oh."

"I'm just totally useless," she whined again. You know who.

What?? No!! Not Vol--

"What makes you say that?" Kanna said, rolling her eyes.

Amidst the swirling angst of Cloche's heart, the piles and piles of thoughts of self-doubt, self-hate, self-talk, self-serve-ice-cream encrusting her troubled spirit, she struggled to find some way, some means for expressing the deep sense of worthlessness and inner pain she was feeling inside.....some set of words that would give the others a true glimpse into the extent of her personal suffering. But what to say? What words to choose? Should she just say whatever came most naturally? Perhaps that would be best. The most natural words one could think to say were reflective of what was truly in the heart, right? So she simply spoke the words that came easiest and most naturally to her at that very moment:

"I don't know."

Cloche, you suck.

"Nobody's totally useless," C.P. said.

_Like I could have lots of fun throwing you off a very short cliff right now,_ thought Kanna.

See? C.P. was right!

"You're just trying to make me feel better."

"Then don't worry about being useful! Or useless!" Kanna stormed. "Just enjoy what you are. Who you have with you. What you see around you. The sun and clouds in the sky. The stinky city. The little flowers that spring up from between the slabs right here in this courtyard."

Cloche stopped moping long enough to gaze downward at said flowers. It seemed as though Kanna's words had gained the tiniest bit of traction within her. Which was probably because Kanna's words were often like monster truck tires with the giant treads that went barrelling through people as they were spoken, but what was most important to both Kanna and C.P. at the moment was for them to be able to say _something_ just to get Cloche to quit moping. Lovely companions, ain't they?

Ever been to a monster truck show?

Cloche then crouched low to gently caress the tiny white flower. Being that flower sounds pretty nice right now. "Yeah," she breathed. "These flowers are beautiful, when you really stop to look at them." She paused meaningfully. She seemed to be enjoying gazing at them up close. Yay, joy....finally a sunbeam shines upon this woman's heart again. Now if only there were a way to trade places with that flower and let the flower do all this writing. Cloche's voice was calm as she spoke. "Just by being flowers.....they still have something to give to this world. And so do I."

Kanna and C.P. inwardly breathed sighs of relief. Yay, relief. How do you spell relief? R-O-L--

"I can be fertilizer for these flowers when I die," Cloche said flatly.

.......Um.......

......-A-I-D--

Simultaneously the thought flared through Kanna's and C.P.'s heads: _Then allow me to assist you with that!_ In perfect unplanned unison they lunged for Cloche, eager to throw her off the nearest very short cliff. When suddenly--

"Hey, ho, whaddya know?" Burl called to them as he and Lance walked up. "Looks like you're having fun."

Kanna and C.P. had frozen mid-lunge, too stunned by Burl's greeting to respond. With a greeting like that, who wouldn't be?

Cloche, however, was clueless. With her back to the whole thing, she was unaware that she had been mere split-seconds away from being bodily hauled off her feet by two bigger, stronger girls. So she simply stayed put, continuing her pitiful flower-gazing and drowning herself in her own sorrows. It's not always a bad thing to be clueless.

Personally though, being bodily hauled off one's feet by two bigger, stronger girls sounds a lot more interesting.

Burl said, "You girls already done w--"

"Aren't you embarrassed to say something like that out loud?!?" Kanna spouted.

We'll never know Burl's answer to that rather rudely asked question, for immediately afterward came an ear-splitting scream of--

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?? So it is?!"

--getting the attention of pretty much everyone in the courtyard.

Everyone whriled around to look. Even Cloche lifted her sad droopy eyes toward the source of the disturbance. A small group of fancily-dressed people, three girls and a guy, were standing not far outside the entrance to Bonbertan. They looked very heroic, very powerful, very much like they belonged in some kind of video game starring as the main characters.

You know who they are already, it's no big mystery.

You'll pardon Lance and his minions, however, if they don't?

"Hey, who's that chick in the white?" Lance blurted.

"Ah-ohn-know," Burl shrugged unintelligently.

How is it that ANY of you girls out there EVER manage to fall for a guy??

"Dang, she's hot," Lance commented, continuing to stare.

Cloche resumed her sad flower-gazing. Okay, now she really _could_ use a little love.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Pastalia, two children were fighting over the latest Gergo plushie that their mother had just bought for them from the Fancy Shop. They tugged at it with all their might. It ripped. They cried. Their mother scolded them both.

Sorry, that was just filler because there was no material for this spot.

"Dude!" Burl suddenly exclaimed. "She's got a sword!"

"Who does?" Kanna asked lazily for some reason unknown to herself, because she was completely un-interested in the guys' chick-gazing.

"The chick in white!"

"Yeah, and now she's pointing it at that other chick in the purple bedsheets!"

"Those aren't bedsheets, you moron. It's some kinda weird yukata."

"Looks like bedsheets to me."

"Yukata."

"Bedsheets!"

"Yukata!"

Idiots.

"Aw man, she put her sword away already."

No one noticed that C.P. was taking a long and careful look at the woman in white. That is, until she said, "That 'chick', as you so charmingly called her, happens to be Lady Cloche."

Slowly the guys turned to her.

"_The_ Lady Cloche?"

C.P. nodded. "_The._"

Slowly the guys turned back to the heroes.

"Dude," said Burl.

"How'd _you_ know that?!" retorted Lance.

"I'm not ignorant."

Ouchie. Lance got flustered with the four-years-younger-than-himself C.P. Sure, she was a great fighter and all, and he could live with that, even though she was younger, and a girl. But being more knowledgeable than himself too? He had to challenge her. In a stupid, childish way.

"Oh yeah?? Then who's that chick in the purple bedsheets?"

"Yukata!"

"I don't know everything."

"A-HA!" Lance proudly declared. WHY??

C.P. glared at him with a seriously annoyed sneer that could have fried eggs. Then she turned away, shaking her head.

Wanna do some math? How old is C.P.?

No?

Sigh. Nobody thinks math can be fun.

Meanwhile, at the mention of _the_ Lady Cloche being nearby, Cloche was roused from her flower-gazing, which by this point had degenerated into mostly staring blankly into space. Her internal self-talk loop had grown weird and irrational, and she was no longer quite herself. She stared out coldly with empty eyes at this woman called Lady Cloche. Her namesake. Her bane. The woman who was all the things that she herself would never be. Uh, w-waitaminnit....._bane?_ W-what the....how did--? If you -- Cloche -- didn't -- but -- when did you....??

Sorry folks. The dots are not connecting on this side of the screen either. Irrational. Yes. Cloche has definitely become irrational.

Thinking nothing but dark, hateful thoughts towards the beautiful Lady Cloche Leythal Pastalia, Cloche Burr picked up a rock. Ooh, what's she gonna do with that rock?? Sugar-and-spice, mixed with cayenne pepper! Could it be? Could it be that she's angry enough, that she's frustrated enough, that she just might.....? It certainly seems so! With her arm slowly rising, rock in hand, her face hardening with growing fury, she appeared to be tensing, appeared to be aiming and judging the distance between herself and Lady Cloche, appeared to be preparing to--

Sigh.

No....sorry. She just couldn't do it. She was still too nice, still too sweet. Lamely she lowered her arm and let the rock fall from her hand. Ah well, it's all for the best. Lady Cloche wouldn't have deserved it anyway. But dang, a cute-but-frustrated Cloche with a projectile weapon in her hand? It sure was cool to imagine it almost happening. Hope it was also cool reading about it.

And on that somewhat awkward note, we'll end with this:

........-S.

Probably a very obscure joke nowadays. The ol' "How do you spell relief?" thing is probably on Google somewhere, though. Look it up, then come back and have a laugh. You'll also level up your American Cultural Knowledge stats as well.

P.S. No one else in the party noticed or cared very much about all the internal drama going on with Cloche in this chapter. They all suck.


	4. Talking With Girls

a/n: geh....without the ability to change font sizes, add colors, or put in strikethroughs, a couple of the gags just don't come across quite the same. ah well. i had originally posted this at A Reyvateil's Melody where with the forum tags i had the ability to do nifty stuff like that. you'll just have to imagine that the "YOU" on Frelia's recruiting poster is green. :P

* * *

Metafalss, the land of Metafalss.

Duh.

On pleasant, summery, climate-controlled nights like tonight, young Metafalssian guys pined for long conversations with pretty Reyvateil girls in their bedrooms that lasted late into the night, and even into the earliest hours of the following morning. It also goes without saying that young Metafalssian guys commonly pined for more than simply talking with said pretty Reyvateil girls in said bedrooms, but since that goes without saying, it shall not be said.

Oh, oops. Shoot.

Speaking of not saying anything, mimes have it really tough, you know? Everybody likes to make fun of them. But isn't their particular brand of performance art worth being appreciated on some level? After all, art is expression, and expression is human, right? And when performing pantomine, one doesn't even have to wear that silly makeup and stripedy t-shirt. Red Skelton didn't, and his pantomine act of a piece of bacon in a frying pan just sent giggles--

What?

Sigh. Sorry. Ahem.

Metafalss, the land with no mimes. And no Red Skelton (those poor souls just don't know what they're missing). A war-torn and blood-soaked land of gorgeous girls known as Reyvateils that all the young guys cruising for a dive hoped to score a date with. Or just....simply hoped to score with, period. But that wasn't so easy. Most Reyvateils didn't let just anyone dive into them. One had to spend lots and lots of quality time with them first. Earn their trust. Grow closer to them through shared experiences. Gradually forge a meaningful bond with them over time. Kinda like Pokemon. "I CHOOSE YOU, AURICA!" one could imagine hearing as a battle cry over the heights of Sol Ciel at the onset of an epic battle.

Or not.

Because that would have been complete total retard cheese.

But, still....good thing one doesn't have to dive into Pokemon to power them up. That just sounds icky.

Late at night, at a dumpy little inn in Rakshek (is there any other kind on the Rim??), Burl stood quietly outside the door to Cloche's room, listening. Lance was inside. He could hear them chatting, and it sounded like they were having fun. He was jealous. He wanted to have fun like that with his Reyvateil partner, too. Aww, poor Burlie feeling left out? He gonna stick out pouty lip now like little sad boy? There, there.

Ignoring the author's belittling remarks, Burl considered that he'd never exactly approached Kanna in this way before. What would she say? How would she react? Should he wear his battle armor to prevent her from doing bodily damage to himself? Only one way to find out. Armorless, he tiptoed over to Kanna's door and gave it a couple of gentle raps.

Insert droll joke here tying word 'raps' in previous sentence to Ar tonelico: Melody of Elemia rapping in BGM, then hope for reader chuckle. Awesome, it worked.

Knock, knock.

No answer from the girlness within.

_Maybe she didn't hear,_ Burl thought. He gave it a few moments before trying again.

Knock, knock, this time a bit louder.

Still no answer. _Maybe she's asleep?_ he wondered. Then he slipped into a happy dream: oh, wouldn't it be so cute to have a sleepy Kanna answer the door, dressed in rumpled PJs, her hair all a mess and her eyes squinting from the hallway lights as she groggily mumbled, "Mm...what is it?"

Smiling to himself, he knocked once more, louder still.

Knock, knock!

"WHAT?!!" bellowed Kanna from within. "I'm tryin' ta SLEEP!!"

Those romanticky-type fantasies never pan out.

"Uh, it's Burl."

"What is it?!" she barked. Well at least she said _that_ line from Burl's happy dream. Didn't quite sound the same, though. Fantasy vs. reality strikes again. Dangit.

"Uh....well, I was just, maybe....could we -- do you think we might or could, um....w-wanna spend time to talk for a bit?"

Clumsy goof talking phrases words can't string a clear sentences.

Kanna didn't answer, but Burl heard a sudden rustling of bedsheets, and then a quick stomping of footsteps across the floor. Oh goody! She was coming to the door!

She opened it with a jerk, but only wide enough to stick her face in the opening, keeping the rest of herself behind the door. Burl's heart went pitty-pat....or doki-doki....or pick your own favorite heart-thumping sound effect. What a sight she was. Feisty pigtails removed for the night, her long strawberry blonde hair dangled alluringly from her fair head, while her enchanting green eyes shone with a deeply feminine brilliance. However, all of that allure and enchantment didn't help her face look the slightest bit happier.

"Why?" she bristled, glaring at him suspiciously.

"Uh....well, we never do, ya know?" Good try, good try.

"Exactly. So why now?" Crash.

"Well--"

"Don't tell me you wanna do something stupid like deepen our relationship by clearing talk topics with me late at night in my room! What, you think you're in some kind of relationship-based RPG or something?!?"

Probably shouldn't tell her. Her H-waves might go kablooie.

"N-no, I--"

"Then what?"

"Um....c-couldn't I just come in for a minute?" he asked sheepishly. Getting desperate....not good, not good.

"No!"

"Aw, how come?"

"I'M NOT WEARING ANYTHING, THAT'S HOW COME!!" she yelled -- so loudly that it was plainly audible to everyone in the inn -- and immediately slammed the door shut and bolted it.

Well, getting a door slammed in one's face by a girl is typically disheartening to a guy. But in this case, Burl suddenly felt light and airy. No longer did it matter that he had just been soundly rejected by his very own Reyvateil partner. Just the mere thought that only a short distance away from him, beyond walls and doors, she would be lying in bed, naked, her long strawberry blonde hair flowing freely down her bare shoulders and over her back, was happiness enough for him. He floated back to his own room in a pleasant reverie.

That pornographic reverie, however, left out the unflattering detail that Kanna could snore like an industrial chainsaw when she slept.....as everyone in the party had sorely discovered while camping out on the dungeon trail. Now _that_ would be a time when those largely useless Gum Plugs would come in handy.

Meanwhile, after having had their conversation disrupted by Kanna's provocative announcement, Lance resumed clearing Cloche's talk topics:

"Oh by the way, Cloche....call me crazy, but, didn't I see you like, getting ready to throw a rock the other day?"

Cloche's expression suddenly appeared stifled. "What _about_ the rock?"

~ - ~ - ~

With their HP & MP fully recovered, the following day greeted them with the most delightful bit of news: the Sacred Army had just rolled into town and taken over the city. Never a dull moment in Metafalss! Travel was now restricted, consumer items were now restricted, even karaoke was now restricted, the logic being that the songs could contain anti-Goddess Hymmnos propaganda. And they were supposed to be such kind-hearted folks, bfft! Anyway, posters also went up around town, bearing a stern image of the Goddess: with unflinching gaze, She called the viewer to action by a solitary pointed finger while the sign declared --

**I WANT YOU  
FOR SACRED ARMY  
NEAREST RECRUITING STATION**

The locals were pissed. Their kids were pissed. Even their pet Poms were pissed. One particularly pissed old geezer was ranting in the middle of a shoddy cafe -- The Greasy Onigiri -- while Lance, Burl, and C.P. looked on from their table, half-annoyed, half-amused.

"Who cares about war?" he cried, pacing and waving his cane about. "Who cares about the Goddess? The Goddess never did anything for me!"

A thoughtful young man tried to interject. "Actually, Uncle, it's Her power that keeps this land afloat..."

Whack went the cane on the young man's thoughtful head.

"Ow!"

"Let an old man gripe in peace, will ya?" he roared, before resuming ranting. "The Goddess! Bah! If She was really all that powerful, then why doesn't She just...." And he ranted on, still waving his cane about as he walked, as the young man thoughtfully led him out of the cafe. Apparently he didn't use that cane much for walking.

While a local morning news show played on the tiny indoor Telemo in the cafe, C.P. got down to the business at hand: a warrior's breakfast. Milk with high-fiber cereal mixed with various nuts and dry fruit. She picked up her milk carton, complete with "Have You Seen Me?" pictures of missing children, some of them purportedly I.P.D.s -- kinda tragic, actually -- and inspecting the expiration date carefully first, she then--

What?

Her food doesn't sound like a warrior's breakfast to you? Then what would you expect, a glassful of raw eggs? Bonus points if you get that reference.

C.P. just felt fortunate to find something to eat that wasn't soaked in grease at a place that had grease in its very name. Lance and Burl had to eat their onigiri with a spoon. Greasy rice doesn't exactly hold together, and neither does it cooperate very well with chopsticks.

Anyway, she opened the carton, but after catching one whiff of its contents, she slammed the carton down furiously, spattering milk on the table.

"Curdled?" Burl inquired.

C.P. said nothing, but she stared blackly at the carton as though she wanted to kill it with her bare hands.

The news show had just begun the weather forecast segment, as a cheery meteorologist took to the screen. "Aaaand it looks like it's gonna be another beautiful and gorgeous day today across Metafalss! Just like every other day for, oh, the past 700 years, but hey, that's a good thing!"

There's something about that line that's somewhat reminescent of a movie about a cute yellow robot and his egg-shaped girlfriend. But anyway--

"Might be a good day to take a break from the routine and take those kids out on a picnic, wouldn't you say, Marlie?"

A female anchor piped up. "That's right, Jimma! I love to pick a spot high up on a terrace where I can see out forever!"

"Oh yes, that sounds quite lovely. But if any of you folks out there choose to do that, just wanna remind ya, do be careful of that edge. Wouldn't want anyone to accidentally slip and fall into that Sea of Death, now would we? Ehhehehehe!" the meteorologist laughed lightly.

"Ohhohohoho!" the female anchor laughed, not quite as lightly, woops.

Lance grimaced. "Uhh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huhh, so funn-ee." Why'd they even HAVE weather forecasts, for Goddess' sake?

"Where's our singers, anyway?" he grumbled between greasy spoonfuls. C.P., meanwhile, was angrily stuffing dry cereal into her mouth.

Burl paused. "You don't remember?"

"Should I??"

"You were RIGHT THERE when they said, 'Guys, we're going shopping for a few last minute things in case the Sacred Army starts forcing people to ration stuff'!"

"Well, excuuuuuse me, Prin--"

"DON'T SAY IT."

"Excuuuuse me for not remembering, then!"

Actually, Lance forgot because having characters go amnesiac once in a while can be handy for storytelling. Ka-chow.

"Gech!" he splorted. "We just went shopping yesterday! Don't women ever know when to stop shopping??"

Lance suddenly felt a presence by his side. He turned -- and recoiled. It was Cloche, looking expectantly at him, with her open hand emphatically stuck out.

"What?" said he.

"Money," said she.

You know, even when she was being flat-out demanding like this, Cloche still had a way of adding a dollop of cuteness to everything she did. Maybe she was born with it. Maybe it was Maybell--

"For what??"

She didn't answer. A slight blush tinged her cheeks.

"Is it something feminine and embarrassing?"

She flushed redder and broke eye contact.

Lance sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "I don't even wanna know," he said, fishing in his pockets and pulling out 1000 leaf. "Here, knock yourself out." He slapped the cash into her hand.

"That's not enough."

"What?! What are you gonna buy?" he said in a whiny falsetto.

"I thought you said you didn't wanna know!"

"Well if it's gonna cost more than _that_.....! Look, just whisper it in my ear, if you don't want the whole world to know, 'kay?"

Cloche hesitated. This _didn't_ sound like a good idea. But she finally muttered, "I guess..." and bent down to whisper it. Whisper, whisper. Isn't it delightful to have a girl who radiates cuteness whisper something into your ear? Well....um....maybe not so much, if you happen to be a girl yourself.

Lance's voice exploded across the cafe for every patron to hear: "A DUALITHNODE CRYSTAL?!!? What happened to the one you had?! Or did you and Kanna stick it in already?!!"

Er....the bathtub. Stick it in the bathtub.....he meant. Yeah.

A now thoroughly red-faced Cloche fired back. "No!! I lost it! It's not in my bag!"

Miscellaneous exasperated grunting noises emanated from Lance's larynx. C.P. suddenly pretended that something on the floor caught her attention so that she could duck down beneath the table and hide her giggling face from the others. Lance's miscellaneous exasperated grunting noises were a real hoot. But, C.P. had a cool-and-collected-fighter-girl image to protect. That, and she wanted to keep from spluttering cereal all over the table.

"And just _where_ exactly do you think you lost it??"

"I dunno....maybe when we were in Mikry Forest the other day?" Cloche replied, but she was now grinning from ear to ear, trying to hold in her laughter. "Could you do that again?"

Lance, with his face down on the table now, mumbled, "Do what?"

"Make all those angry sounds?"

~ - ~ - ~

Later, another party of adventurers, mostly composed of girls, made their way through the cool afternoon underneath the green trees of Mikry Forest. Croix Bartel, his little loli sister Cocona, Luca Trulyworth, and Lady Cloche Leythal Pastalia the 33rd Holy Mai -- dang that's a lot to type -- had taken a brief pause in their journey to discuss what their next step should be. Presently, a glimmer in the grass caught Luca's eye, and she wandered forward to investigate. Suddenly, she dropped herself close to the ground.

Suddenly dropping one's self close to the ground can be disconcerting to nearby onlookers. "Luca, what's wrong?" Croix called out.

"Wow, I'm so lucky today!" Luca cried out happily.

"...Huh?"

She stood up, beaming with the light of good fortune and proudly showing off her find to the others. "Tadaa! Look! I found a Dualithnode Crystal!"

And now you know why a rare and expensive item was just lying around in the middle of nowhere.


	5. Kanna's & Cocona's Bad Day

ep. 5: Kanna's & Cocona's Bad Day

* * *

Metafalss, the land of the IPD. Yep, that's right - the Ironplate Desert. Heh, and you thought IPD only stood for - well, anyway...

Billions of cubic centimet-

Wha-?

Yes, it _can_ be abbreviated IPD. Like this: **I**ron**p**late **D**esert. See? It wouldn't necessarily have to be just "ID".

Anyhow...

Billions of cu-

Hm?

Wha...why so picky? Just because the "p" in "Ironplate" isn't capitalized? Or is it because the _other_ meaning for IPD has so much greater significance in this land that "IPD" attached to anything else just doesn't feel the same? Gugh. "Ironplate" is a compound word, anyway. And compound words can be abbreviated in this fashion - just ask Mr. extrasensory perception, or ESP. And you can get even sloppier with your abbreviations, such as with "radar": **RA**dio **D**etection **A**nd **R**anging. The "a" in "radio" doesn't even have it's own frickin' syllable, for Goddess' sake! It's just slapped up right next to the "r"! Yet people all over the world have already bought into it. So there. Nyaah.

Now then!

Billions of cubic...um, centimeters...

Uhh...

Billions of cubic...

Grghh! See what happens when this narrative gets sidetracked by an insignificant puerile distraction? Can't remember where this was going! Sighhhh. Oh well. Since the word "billions" was already thrown out there, may as well make use of it by throwing something Carl Sagan-ish into the mix. For no good reason.

_Billions and billions of stars..._

There.

'Kay, let's get on with this already.

~ . ~ . ~

It was days later, and the sweltering maze of the Ironplate Desert couldn't have been more cruel. Relentlessly the sun blazed down upon its metal surface, which in turn only served to absorb the sun's fury and emanate it back in an aura of inescapable, draining heat. Where was that dang climate control when you needed it?

Wearily, two lone girls trudged their way through yet another bewildering and shadeless expanse of iron. One wore her hair in strawberry blonde pigtails that were no longer feisty, but drooping now, as she painfully dragged herself on. The other, a short girl with plain brown hair, shuffled along almost lifelessly beside her. Where were they going? When would they get there? How long had they been wandering? None of these questions could they answer. All they could do was keep going. Keep wandering. Keep putting one foot in front of the other with no idea where they were headed.

It was either that, or die here. Die, lost in the Ironplate Desert.

"Cloche..." Kanna breathed.

"Yes, Kanna?" Cloche croaked.

"Lance and them...they fought so bravely. Didn't they?"

"Uh...yeah..."

"We just barely escaped...but I never would've thought..." Kanna's voice seemed to catch before she went on, "...I mean those things just came right at us, and not even C.P. could-"

"Kanna, don't think about it," Cloche pleaded. "Let's just...we gotta keep going."

They plodded on. But the searing heat sapped their energy, and their will to continue, with every step. They had scarcely gone a dozen paces farther before Kanna seemed to have reached her very limit.

"Cloche..."

"Yeah?"

"I...can't..."

"Kanna...?"

"It's...no good. I can't go on..."

Her legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the merciless metal of the desert.

"Kanna! No!"

Ignoring her own exhaustion, Cloche knelt down by her side, attempting to bring aid to her friend. Kanna lay limply on her back, appearing unresponsive.

"Kanna! KANNA!" she cried, taking Kanna up into her arms.

Kanna's eyes cracked open weakly. Her voice came in a raspy whisper. "Cloche...you'll go on for me...won't you?"

"No, Kanna! We're gonna go together! We can still make it!"

"Cloche...I can't. I...can't even see anything now."

"Just hang on! Please! It can't be much farther!"

"It's okay, Cloche...it's okay. Just knowing that..."

"No, no..."

"...knowing that...it's you, who's with me...at the end...it's enough...for me."

"Kanna..."

Kanna suddenly exhaled and went completely limp.

"KANNA!"

Cloche tried to rouse her friend, as she cried out, "Kanna...Kanna!" but to no avail. All life appeared to have passed on from her once fierce Reyvateil spirit.

"No...Nooo..."

Cloche gently laid her down onto the heartless desert. For a moment she was unable to speak. Then, still on her knees, she slowly looked up to the sky. Suddenly her breath began coming in angry gasps, and in the next moment she found herself crying out:

"WHY, GODDESS?"

"WHYYYY?"

"_Because,_" C.P. said, casually strolling past.

"Are you girls really that bored?" said Burl, as he and Lance followed behind C.P.

"YES!" Kanna yowled. "How LONG are we gonna keep WANDERING around this FLIPPIN' desert with NO idea where we're GOING?"

"Whine, whine, whine," Burl said. "You're not the only one with sore feet, ya know."

Kanna growled, still laid flat out like Reyvateil pancake on the desert. Cloche had gotten off her knees to sit, as she mentally reviewed her performance in their improv skit and wondered if her acting skills had been good enough. Yup, that's our poor little self-conscious Cloche.

The others had kept walking, and were a bit further ahead. "Hey Cloche!" Lance called back. "When Kanna was dying, you shoulda fondled her boobs! Bet that woulda perked her right up!"

Death-wish idiot.

Instantly Kanna was on her feet. One of [hick]them magical-type glowin' circley-thangs[/hick] flared beneath her feet as she angrily began invoking her Angry Tantrum song, singing:

_** NOTICE **  
Right here there was supposed to be a song  
Spoken in the enchanting Hymmnos language  
About being pissed off  
And throwing stuff at people  
With maybe a blurb about little birdies thrown in for good measure_

_But instead we have this dumb free verse poem  
Sitting in its place  
Because the author hasn't studied Hymmnos long enough  
To write anything coherent in it  
So hope you enjoyed this instead - now everybody say "bleh"_

With the smile swiftly wiped off his face, Lance went for cover. "KIDDING! I WAS JUST KIDDING!" he desperately cried as he tried to hide behind Burl and C.P. Remorselessly they shoved him back out into the open. Just take it like a man, Lance.

Instead, he took off in a dead run. Kanna ended up pulling her H-wave punches, seeing that Lance had sufficiently had the Post Toasties scared out of him. The song merely resulted in him being pelted with not-so-heavy random objects like squishy old tomatoes, boxes of breakfast cereal, feminine hygenic products (_clean, **not** used_, don't be gross), copies of Ar tonelico 2: Melody of Metafalica, and girly-smelling bath powders.

So what if they don't have Post Toasties in Metafalss? Post Toasties are goofy! Pbtb.

As the magic from Kanna's song faded away, Cloche laid herself down on the warm metal surface, completely untroubled by having just watched her dive partner in life getting served a Song Server Sandwich, holding the mustard. She'd grown accustomed to quite a number of outrageous behaviors on the part of her companions ever since she first began adventuring with them. Sometimes she felt like her life had turned into a manga. Or an anime. Or worse...a fanfiction. She shuddered at the thought.

For some moments, Cloche lay there in peace, as undisturbed as the last donut in the box that nobody wants. Silently she gazed up into the cloudless sky. The ironplate didn't feel all that bad actually, as her body blissfully soaked up the warmth. _I could get used to this,_ she thought, as she felt herself slowly relax. She began to wonder if this baking feeling was what it felt like to be a biscuit. One food-related thought led to another, and before she knew it she found herself straightening her body into a line and calling to Kanna:

"Hey, hey! Lookit me! I'm a piece of bacon!"

A sound of sizzling breakfast fats bubbled from her throat as she slowly curled up her torso and limbs into crinkly shapes that looked crispy and delicious and...very Jimmy Dean-like.

Kanna looked on with stunned bewilderment. Then she turned to call to the others. "O-kaaay! We'd better get outta this desert soon! The heat's making Cloche go koo-koo!"

~ . ~ . ~

A short time later, with a still pouty-looking Cloche keeping her distance from the peppery Kanna, the low-level adventurers found themselves being subjected to yet another pigtailed tirade from their loudmouth Reyvateil. The good times in Metafalss just never end, eh?

"...found out that he never even HAD so much as a pair of Butterfly Balls! Which reminds me! Anybody care to tell me what the finger-lickin' Funboon we're doing here?" Kanna blustered, her salvo of syllables ricocheting across the desert. "Finding Hymn Crystals? Finding treasures? In a place like this?"

"Well, gotta start somewhere, right?" Burl politely offered.

"But HERE?"

"Well, we've found _some_ stuff..."

"OH! That's RIGHT! THANK you for reminding me of all the lovely _'some stuff'_ we've found lying around! Let's see here...!" She dug through her party's Item Inventory.

Sigh...geez, Burl. Look, trying to use politeness on her is like trying to put out a fire with an ice cube - you know that, right? Then again...on second thought, trying to out-mouth her instead would be like putting out said fire with a bucket of gas. Oh well. You chose her as your Reyvateil partner, pal...lucky you.

_Maybe I should try stuffing her mouth full of crackers,_ Burl thought.

Whoa, let's not get too misogynistic there, buddy. There could be girls reading this, ya know.

"A few hundred Leaf," Kanna announced, "some Funboons, some Curel A's, Attractive Wear, Harmonizer...oooOOOoooh, we're rollin' in it, now!" She rummaged some more. "And two Colored Twigs! What the hell're we supposed to do with these?" Irritably she stuck the twig trunks onto her upper canines and began jabbering in the most backwater bumpkin voice she could muster: "Uh hey Clem-Boy! Som'n' wrong wi' muh teef! Think ah needs t' should go see th' dock-turr? Or should ah jus', put muh hed in th' groun' so they c'n gets tuh sprout 'n' grow big?"

Without waiting for a reaction from the others, she stuffed the twigs roughly back into Inventory, then resumed rummaging. "And of course, there's that _priceless_ Pippencuit we found just a little while ago..." But no matter how much she rummaged, she just couldn't seem to find it.

"Where's the Pippencuit?" she blared at last, looking about in pissy disposition at the others.

Kanna's eyes landed on Cloche. Cloche appeared to have just swallowed something, and she still had a trace of crumbs about her mouth.

"What?" Cloche said.

"Don't you mean, 'What, _effendi?_'" Kanna retorted, rolling her eyes.

Soon as Kanna's back was turned, Cloche stuck out her Pippencuit-coated tongue at her.

"Who leaves stuff lying around in boxes in the middle of nowhere, anyway?" Kanna stormed. "Especially stuff like that! Worthless junk nobody even wants! Why bother putting it in a box? The box is probably worth more than the thing in it! Maybe we should become box hunters instead! We'll go around Metafalss looking for valuable boxes to put stuff in! We'll come across some box in a dungeon and we'll say, 'Woo! Lookit that box! Must be worth a thousand Leaf!' 'But what's in the box?' somebody says. Screw what's in the box! Just dump it! Whoever left it here didn't care about it anyway, so why should we? We're gonna get rich offa all these boxes!" Without warning, she changed the subject...and her mood. "Hey, Burl! You wanna put this Attractive Wear on? I betch'll look so _purty_ in it!" she snickered, holding the Attractive Wear aloft. "You'll be a hit with all the girls! Well - 'cept _this_ girl - but hey, c'mon! What's a little dandification between friends? Not a chance, huh? Oh, La-a-ance!" she warbled. "Your new fashion statement is calli-i-ing! What's the matter? Don't like outfits with poofy shoulders? It's supposed to be the trendiest of the trendy! 'Course, I think it sucks Gergo cheese, but..."

Meanwhile, C.P. had nonchalantly strolled up beside Kanna, carrying a large package of crackers. As she was busy trying to get it open, they all suddenly heard the approach of an engine roar off in the distance. A Grand Bell airship appeared in the sky, and it was headed their way. They watched as it drew near - very near. It stopped short some distance ahead, then dropped straight down into the Ironplate Desert.

Everyone halted. That is, except for Kanna.

"Why'd you stop?" she said as she came alongside Lance and Burl.

In a different context that last sentence could be pretty perverted. Sorry, couldn't help noticing. But anyhow-

"Grand Bell airship," Lance said.

"Yeah, we don't want no trouble," Burl seconded. Lady Cloche's Grand Bell regime wasn't exactly known for kindness or tolerance. Except for when it came to things Gergo-related. Though no one in the general public could figure out why.

Kanna frowned. "What are you, a bunch of babies? That you'd let the Grand Bell stop you?"

"Goo-goo," they said together. Nice timing.

With a grunt, Kanna haughtily marched on ahead in the direction of the descended airship. Was she bold? Was she stupid? Probably both. Guess we'll find out next time on...

...cue the reverb...

_SUCKAAAAAAGE OOOOOOF METAFALSS...FALSS...Falss...falss..._

Okay, not really, as this episode isn't finished yet, but that just sounded like something cool to throw in there.

Lance tried to stop her. "Uh, hey, wait! Kanna!" he called. Naturally, she wasn't listening.

You call that 'trying to stop her', Lance? Sheez. Maybe that should've read, 'Lance effetely tried to stop the angered girl with lame words'. At least you could have tried going up to her and gently taking her by the shoulders or something.

"And risk getting slugged?" Lance added.

Okay, good point.

As Kanna's game sprite grew smaller in the distance, Lance mused, "Well, I suppose we could always just let her get herself arrested or something."

Burl suddenly got a concerned and somewhat pouty look on his face.

Lance sighed heavily. "All right, all right. We'll go after her. Just stop making that face already."

~ . ~ . ~

While they were busy goofing around, Croix Bartel's life was shattering. Cocona, an IPD? No freaking way. It wasn't possible! How-

What?

Yeah, that _is_ kind of a spoiler, but the whole 'Cocona is an IPD' thing is all over the ding-dong internet anyway. So, whoopty.

How could something like this be true? He couldn't bear with the thought of what might happen to her, were the Grand Bell to contain her. So he fought valiantly to protect her, no matter what the cost. Apparently the cost was his own consciousness, as he went down, scarcely at a high enough level to put up a real fight. Dang those predestined-to-lose game battles.

Wait, hold up a sec. Wasn't Croix supposed to be an ace rookie? The best of the best, the most promising of the Grand Bell Knights these days? You'd think he would've been able to put up a better fight than...

Oh well, shrug. Let's just cue some in-game dialogue.

"IPD infected body contained. Mission complete!" a Grand Bell Knight announced to Captain Leglius.

Leglius nodded. "Good job. How's Croix?"

"He woke up during medical treatment, but didn't seem to be aggressive."

"I see..." Leglius said, pausing reflectively before continuing. "Alright, everyone aboard. Let's return to the Grand Bell Hall."

And now, for the dialogue you _didn't_ see in the game...

"Uh, begging your pardon, sir, but we still need to complete our official report on this incident."

"Eh?"

"The paperwork and such."

"Oh. Well, carry on, then. We'll be waiting for you inside," Leglius said as he corralled Amarie and had her march ahead of him into the airship. "Don't make it too long," he added.

"Sir," they both replied as Leglius and Amarie vanished within.

Now that the Cap was gone and their main mission complete, the knights were at ease.

"Grouchy ol' coot," one of them muttered as he pulled out official-looking forms and began making notes. "_Don't make it too long..._"

But the other was still incredulous over the battle they'd just had. "Dude, you just took out the rising star of the Grand Bell Knights!" he prattled as he pulled out a nifty handheld technological device, flipped it open and began making a scan of the area.

"I know! Awesome, wasn't I?"

"You suck."

The knight scanning the area was promptly approached by his Grand Bell Reyvateil. "I told you before!" she said, looking at the nifty handheld technological device with disdain. "You don't need that! We can do the scan ourselves," she declared, indicating herself and the other knight's Reyvateil, who nodded in agreement.

"Not this again..." he groaned.

"Well-l-l, why don't'cha just stand right there and watch?" And without waiting for approval, the two Reyvateils walked over to the area where Cocona had broken out and began chanting something in a low voice. Their hands began glowing with energy.

"Level seven-point-three-eight, positive-point-six," the first recited.

"Two bursts, thirty-eight-thirty Hmag/s total," the second continued.

"Outbreak dynamically manifested with vectors D, Vx, and S increasing. Type A-3," the first finished. "There, I even categorized it for you," she smiled.

The knight tried to keep a poker face as he first checked his scanner...then looked at the girls...then checked his scanner...then looked back at the girls. Finally he snapped the scanner shut and just let it fall clattering onto the desert.

"Uh...didja get all that?" he said to the other knight.

After a few minutes longer, they were ready to pack it up for Grand Bell Hall. But just as they were making their way to the airship, who should pop up around the corner but - you guessed it - a fiery young Reyvateil in strawberry blonde pigtails.

"Hiyeee!" Kanna chirped with uncharacteristic pleasantness. "You're the Grand Bell, right? Could I ask a wee little favor of you?" she said sweetly.

Eh? Where'd this cheery girl come from? Must've had her Reyva-noodle baked by the heat.

"Shut _up,_ I have a _plan_," she muttered to the author out of the corner of her mouth, never breaking her smile.

The Grand Bell Knights and their Reyvateils stared back at her in stony silence. Tough audience, kid.

"My friends and I are stuck out here in this desert. We've been wandering about here all day, and..." Kanna sighed. "We really just need to get back into town. It doesn't matter which town - any place would be fine. We just need to get out of here before this heat gets us. Could you please help us out? Do you have any room to spare aboard your-"

One of the knights rudely cut her off as he approached menacingly and growled, "What are you and who are you doing here? Uh...I mean, uh-"

"Idiot," the other knight said, shoving him aside. "State your name and business, miss," he said unpleasantly.

"Well I already said, my friends and I-"

"Your NAME, miss!"

"What for?"

"These are dangerous times! For all we know, you may be a Sacred Army spy!"

Yet there's nominally one such spy sitting in your airship at this very moment, ya doofwhack.

"Sacred Army spy?" Kanna flared. Uh oh, the facade has cracked. "I don't go in for any of your political cheese muffins! I'm just an ordinary Reyvateil!"

"Oh, really? And where are these so-called friends of yours?"

"Back there!" she said, pointing behind her. "But they're too chicken to talk to the Grand Bell! So I came out ahead to ask for a ride 'cause I got guts!"

"You certainly do got guts, miss!" he growled, drawing his weapon. "Now if you don't wanna _see_ your guts all over the ground, how 'bout you tell me exactly who you are, and why you're here in this desert?"

"And what if I DON'T? You gonna beat me up? Beat up a poor, defenseless Reyvateil? Oooooh, that'd make you a real man, now wouldn't it!"

Coolly, the knight paused. Then he casually put away his weapon. "Girls," he called.

The two Grand Bell Reyvateils took his place and stood threateningly in front of Kanna. They looked almost as bulky and tough as their male knight counterparts. The shortest of them stood a full seven inches taller than Kanna.

"How 'bout they beat you up, instead? Would that work?" said the knight.

"My Goddess!" Kanna yelled. "What is WRONG with you people? Why can't you just help out others in need? Is it so hard to-"

Her conscientious words were cut short by a Reyvateil fist across her nose, as once again, brute force trumped morality. Kanna staggered backwards, about to fall over when the other girl pulled her up and lifted her off her feet in a headlock. My. You'd think they'd just have a Song Magic duel, or something. Guess even Reyvateils like to get physical too, every now and then.

Kanna furiously kicked her legs backward, forward, any which way she could to try to hurt the girl who was strangling her. "Is that all you got?" she squeaked, while at the same time thinking, _Goddess, this hurts..._ about her poor, bleeding nose.

The other girl grabbed Kanna's flailing legs, leaving her helplessly twisting about. "No. How about this?" she spat as she threw down Kanna's legs and slammed a fist into her solar plexus. Ouch, critical damage.

Kanna's body tried to crumple up but the headlock girl roughly held her aloft, worsening the blow. She could only dangle limply as the pain cruelly twisted her senses. "Okay...I've had enough now..." she croaked weakly.

"Oh really?" the headlock girl said innocently in her ear. "But I haven't had a turn punching you yet. Sorry, you'll have to take some more," she grinned with rosy sweetness. Then she shoved her to the ground. Kanna hit hard, but was scarcely down before the other girl grabbed her and hauled her back up.

Okay, it's about time for Kanna to get rescued here. This isn't gonna turn into some kinda torture-fest fic.

Suddenly the sound of rapidly thudding footfalls drew everyone's attention as Lance, Burl, C.P. and Cloche charged into the scene, running at full speed. Cue the cavalry bugles! Had they seen what was happening from afar? Had the injustice done to their friend roused their hearts and emboldened them to challenge the Grand Bell and come running to Kanna's rescue? No! They were actually running like mad away from a small horde of Sesame Poms chasing after them!

Awww...so much for heroics. But at least they had nice timing.

The tough and stern Grand Bell Knights suddenly paled at the sight of the monster horde. "POMS!" one of them cried.

"Hee-bee-bee-bee-bee!" the knights bravely babbled together as they bolted for the airship.

"Wha-where are you going?" one of their Reyvateils blurted.

"Tch! Men are such wusses," hissed the other girl, as they followed after them.

The airship took off, as Kanna fell to her knees. Burl was the first to notice her.

"Kanna!" he called.

Unfortunately the Poms also noticed her, and one sitting duck is easier to hit than four moving targets. They veered off in her direction.

"Kanna, look out!" shouted Burl.

Unfortunately Kanna was in no shape to look out, and the Poms knocked her senseless with their fluffy ferocity. Poor Kanna's just getting abused today. Maybe we should make it up to her in a future episode.

Nah.

"Oh my Goddess! They killed Kanna!" Lance said, wide-eyed.

"You bastards!" Burl cried.

Facepalm for that one if you gotta.

The four of them suddenly turned to charge at the Poms with fritzy fortitude, emboldened with fury over their fallen comrade. That, and Lance had just yelled, "Crap! There's nowhere to run! Guess we gotta fight 'em!" And after a short but furious paroxysm of battle, which, due to outright laziness, will unfortunately not be described here, the three bedraggled fighters and one bedraggled Reyvateil picked up Kanna, nursed her back to health with a sprinkle of song magic, got the story out of her as to what happened, then promptly divided into two camps: the 'You Deserved What You Got For Mouthing Off To The Grand Bell' camp, and the 'Nobody Deserves To Get Slugged Like That' camp. Kanna, on the other hand, merely wished to console her wounded pride by slugging somebody..._anybody_. With great reluctance Cloche let her borrow her stuffed Gergo toy for just such a purpose, believing that taking out one's anger on inanimate objects could be a form of healthy emotional release. Unfortunately, all she received back of her Gergo toy was miscellaneous bits of stuffing. Cloche was sad. But she put up a pleasant and understanding demeanor for Kanna's sake. What a sweet, neurotic girl.

Actually that whole paragraph looks like it was made out of laziness. Snooze.

~ . ~ . ~

Meanwhile, seated on the floor in a lonely janitor's storeroom on the Grand Bell airship, Croix's countenance looked more depressing than a pile of dried dog doo. Cocona was gone. She had been his world...the only joy he had had left in this land of maximum suckage. Speaking of suckage, doesn't it suck to have two "had"s together in a sentence like that? Frickin' past perfect tense of "have". Anyway, after having seemingly been given a whole 30 minutes or so to grieve the deep, painful loss of the girl who'd been as close to his heart as a blood-related sister, he had had visitors -

...Grkhh...

- visitors come by and attempt to help him snap out of it. Luca had just gotten through telling him something stupid and pointless, and now Amarie was in the process of telling him something rude and obnoxious. Gee, these girls are lovely to have around when you're down and out, ain't they?

"You're still acting like this?" Amarie said. "Come on, pull yourself together already."

Croix said a line of dots.

"I guess you're really the cowardly type, huh?" Amarie went on abusively. "There's this guy I like. He's nothing like you. His village burned, and he lost the woman he loved... But he used that energy to join the Grand Bell. I believe men show their true nature when Brown Moses hits the fan."

Wait, what?

What the flippin' sheezaw is "Brown Moses"?

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Frank Zappa entered the room.

"Uh, maybe I could answer that," Frank said with uncharacteristic politeness.

SHUT UP! You don't even REMOTELY belong in this world, Frankie, so GET OUT!

"But, I have this song called Brown-"

OUT!

"Man, whatever, just tryin' to be helpful..." Frank said as he shuffled out of the scene.

Goddess. If stuff like that keeps happening, this fic'll really jump the shark. If it hasn't already. Sorry for that, Croix. Please continue.

"I don't need you to tell me things!" Croix fumed.

Wha? Sheez, touch-y! Oh. You meant Amarie, heh.

"I just though you'd wanna hear my opinion," Amarie said. "If you have time to mope, why don't you think about what you can do right now?" And with that, she sashayed out of the room, leaving Croix alone with his thoughts.

_Hm. I could always retire from the Knights and take up shuffleboard. Nah. Cocona'd be ashamed of me if I did that. I'm not even sure what shuffleboard is, anyway. Some ancient game thousands of years old...that's all I know. Even though we weren't related by blood, you were my sister, in every possible way. I'll fight on then...for your sake...Cocona._

And that's the stuff real heroes are made of!

~ . ~ . ~

P.S. Poor Carl Sagan, rest his astronomical soul, claims that he never once said the phrase "billions and billions" at any point during his critically-acclaimed televised miniseries, "Cosmos". That must really suck to be remembered for something you never said. But what does that have to do with Ar tonelico? Well, ol' Carl _was_ one of the astronomers who pioneered and promoted SETI. He would've been just giddy to find intelligent life on other planets...such as Ar Ciel. See? Two wildly different bits of culture _can_ be connected, moo-heh!


	6. Lady Cloche's Birthday Gets Trashed

ep. 5.99: Lady Cloche's Birthday Gets Trashed

Metafalss, the land of chaos...and chaotic televised events. A land where nothing ever goes as planned...and so you'd think that if the government wanted to put on a propaganda-ish show featuring their star Holy Maiden doll all dressed in white that they would tape it first and broadcast it later after sending it through editing. And not just broadcast it live. But well, surely some schmuck with decision-making power in the Grand Bell Telemo Production Department sold everybody on the live broadcast idea with some cheese like, "It's Lady Cloche's birthday! We _gotta_ broadcast it live! So that all the viewers can feel like they're _really there!_"

That's right, folks! It's time for Lady Cloche's Super Fun Happy Birthday Celebration! Except nobody was happy. Especially Lady Cloche. "It's all lip service," she said flatly to the squeaky little Dive Therapist standing to her right in the large empty chamber in Grand Bell Hall. Luca, on the other hand, had expressed a slight twinge of jealousy at so many people coming in honor of the birthday girl with big boobs standing to her left. Nobody ever really celebrated Luca's birthday. _Everybody always likes the girls with big boobs,_ she pouted secretly to herself.

Meanwhile, over in Luca's hometown of Mint Block, on the back stoop of a nondescript house some kid whose birthday never really got celebrated either had just poured a fistful of salt on a slug and was watching it die in horrible spasms of slime. Said kid felt rotten for it, and vowed never again to pour salt on slugs.

Well, that piece of filler was absolutely pointless. Back to the Grand Bell's rah-rah propaganda show.

If the statue of Raksha had been alive, she might have felt a tad concerned from wondering if there were any perverts out there in the crowd gathered at her feet who were trying to snatch a peek up her dress, as thousands of Metafalssians stared with expectancy at the public Telemos surrounding her lower half. Lance and crew were also there among the sheep and cattle, eh, citizenry. The crowd was feeling festive. Not because it was Lady Cloche's birthday. But because it was an excuse to drink up. Or slack off from work. Or let one's kids run wild with all the other kids running loose and not worry about it for once, because _'Eh, surely somebody's watching them,'_ one begins to think, with so many other festive-minded moms hanging about.

Matter of fact, probably the only ones who cared that this was like one big birthday party were the kids. They got to play with blue, white, and gold balloons. They got to eat government-issue candies and sweets, distributed by the Grand Bell for the occasion. Yum. Tasty. Well, they were sugary anyway, and that's all the kids really cared about. Some of the girls were running around wearing crude-looking versions of Lady Cloche's headgear. The boys pretended that the sun pieces were bullseyes, and were throwing stuff trying to knock it off their heads. Some girls cried. Other girls got mad and beat up the boys. The adults had bookoos of fun watching.

While everyone was hanging around waiting for the show to start, a rumor flew amongst the kids that someone was selling Lady Cloche Cookies nearby. An enterprising baker had slapped together some festive cookies bearing a frosted likeness of Our Lady of Holy It's-My-Birthday-But-So-What Maidens and set up a stand to make some cold hard cash off the beautiful teenage girl. There's something that sounds vaguely wrong about that last bit, when one puts it that way. But anyhow, frosting can be hard to draw with, so her likeness wasn't exactly flattering, but it got the point across. Especially to the males in the crowd.

The cookies were cut in a shape like a bust of Lady Cloche, depicting her from the crown of her hairpiece down to her, well, bust. Lance and Burl had bought one apiece...guess which end they put in their mouth first. Cloche could do little more than stare at them in transfixed open-mouthed disgust at their blatant sexual harassment as they munched with happy perverted grins on their faces. Turned out the cookies were a hot seller in more ways than one, so by the time most of the kids had run to their parents begging for a few Leaf so they could buy one of those special Lady Cloche Cookies, they were all sold out. Mostly having been bought up by guys in their teens and older.

"That baker guy who made these is a frickin' genius!" Lance proclaimed to Burl, holding up his cookie with a bite suggestively missing.

"Amen, brutha!" some passing random guy called out to them, also holding up a suggestively bitten cookie.

Sigh. C'mon Lady Cloche, just start this thing already.

Finally, she took the stage. The proud stateswoman looked out upon her privileged bootlickers, er, party guests gathered below, and, in her commanding voice, began:

"I am very delighted to see that so many of you have come to celebrate my birthday today. In the midst of internal chaos, residency issues, and rumors about the end of the world, today is..."

...Blah, blah, blah. Some old guy in the back was already starting to doze off as her speech passed the 45-second mark. Even Lance and Burl noticed that their Lady Cloche Cookies somehow began to taste bland and dull.

Sigh. C'mon Lady Cloche, just end this thing already.

~ . ~ . ~

Some 900 or so syllables later, Lady Cloche declared:

"In this uncertain age, all citizens must unite! Yes, we are all being tested!"

"Crap. I hate tests," Lance muttered.

"Yeah. And we don't even know what we're supposed to study," Burl seconded.

Pa-dap kshh. Lame. Only the laugh track laughed.

"Sh! Something's happening!" Cloche suddenly hissed.

Indeedy it was. Staring at the Telemo, her eyes widened as she watched her namesake's propaganda being shoved aside by someone else's propaganda.

"Only those in the fascist government need be tested by the Goddess!"

Woo! Fascists! You know the political heat's crankin' up when somebody throws out the F-word!

"Wh-what!" Lady Cloche stammered.

"People, open your eyes!"

Lance bugged out his peepers as wide as he could. Also lame. Even the laugh track's laughter was only half-hearted.

"For 700 years, we've lived alongside the Goddess. She gave us this land. Jaza the Wise also gave Her his heart. And in due time, She will grant us more land."

If you say so. You guys've only been waiting hundreds of years, sheez...

"The government would have you believe that their holy war is just and true... As is their Maiden of Disaster!"

"How dare you!"

"Don't be fooled by their talk of future delusions."

"Who are you! Show yourself!"

And out onto the stage walked Chester, wearing the weirdest getup in the game up to that point. Many faces in the crowd got caught between wanting to laugh and continuing to be somber from the mood of the moment, turning the crowd into a sea of silly-looking half-grins. Some old guy in the back who cared nothing for speeches or politics or the mood of the moment pointed at the Telemo and busted out: "Haaa ha ha! Lookit Mr. Sissy Man!"

Why is it always some old guy in the back?

Chester blathered on. "People! I present to you the true Goddess Maiden!"

And out onto the stage walked Luca Trulyworth, wearing the weirdest getup in the game up to that point. Sorry Chester, you've just been one-upped. Her Empress outfit looked uncomfortable, hot, and embarrassing to wear. And those sharp golden points at the top looked like they could cut tomatoes.

_It's that girl from the other day,_ C.P. observed with a touch of surprise, recalling the scene in front of Bonbertan. Very good, C.P.! You are correct - you get a gold star for paying attention!

_Shut up._

Meanwhile, many in the crowd started talking to each other all at once, wondering what all of this could possibly mean. Well for one thing it means Lady Cloche's Birthday Fun Day just got cut short, so ease up on the drinking and slacking off, Metafalssian peeps.

With all the chattering going on in every direction, the Telemo got drowned out, and Kanna, finally getting to use that big mouth of hers after having no part at all to play in this chapter up to this point, took advantage of the opportunity and bellowed, "HEY! EVERYBODY SHUT UP! I CAN'T HEAR THE TELEMO!"

"Jeez, you got a big mouth!" some annoyed teenage girl nearby called back at her.

"I DO NOT HAVE A BIG MOUTH!"

Sigh. Kanna, Kanna...

Anyway, there was no need for all that, as a hush suddenly fell over the crowd when the Telemo grabbed their attention again with the beginning words of Luca's Hymn, EXEC_SOL=FAGE/. Why do hushes always "fall", anyway? Can't hushes do something else for once? Next, a nifty light show surrounding Luca filled the stage, and the audience was rapt. Where the accompanying voices and instruments for Luca's Hymn came from is a mystery, but who cares. The song is cool.

After that, the chaos ramped up a few notches. The Jacqli-robo showed up, looking like something out of a high school tuba player's nightmare. So did Alfman, with his hair like a Whirlpool mascot. Mr. Sissy Man pulled out his gun. Alfman pulled out his. They exchanged gunfire, apparently missing each other despite being only a dozen or so paces away. Guess that's why they're leaders, not soldiers. Waitaminnit. _Exchanged_ gunfire? How could Alfman shoot? Isn't his just a lollipop gun?

Eh. Guess he loaded it with Dum-Dums. Augh.

And finally, some soldier ended up flying off the stage and into the Grand Bell Hall crowd below. Nothin' says chaos like people flying through the air.

"Whoa! Didja see that? That was awesome!" Lance declared, suddenly wishing for instant-replay technology.

Quickly the maidens high-tailed it off the stage, and moments later the Telemo visual went to a "Sorry, we are currently experiencing technical difficulties" splash screen. It even featured a cute-but-harried-looking super deformed media technician character. Kinda unintentionally funny, actually.

"Awww! C'mon! I wanna see more soldiers flying off the stage!" Lance lamented. He was the type to watch airship races just for the crashes.

"Ahh, I guess the show's over, kids," Burl sighed, as he and Lance began leaving the courtyard, trailed by their Reyvateils and C.P. Gee, none of them got to do much this episode. Well, big televised events like this tend to overshadow the lives of ordinary, everyday, insignificant twits like these. Kinda like the Olympics.

"I'm not a TWIT!" C.P. snarled viciously.

"Me neither!" spat Kanna.

"Not me too! I mean neither!" blurted Cloche.

Heh! Sorry, Cloche. You fail. And it's no use putting that look on your face. You only look cuter when you're smoldering with angst.

Lance and Burl, meanwhile, said nothing. They already knew the truth about themselves all too well.


	7. Enna, Tourist Trap Hell

ep 6: Enna, Tourist Trap Hell

Metafalss, the land of whatever.

~ . ~ . ~

"The land of whatever? That's it? Psh...feels like a rip," Kanna griped.

"Eh?" mumbled Cloche.

The girls were in their tent, waking up to another blah Metafalssian why-the-fsck-do-I-have-to-get-out-of-bed morning. Reyvateils especially took that literally. Every couple of days or so their bodies had to run fsck in a background process before they woke up. Because the file systems for their cosmospheres were so dadgum touchy.

"The intro. You know? He usually puts in more effort than that."

Cloche looked around uncertainly. "Who does?"

"You know who. And don't say Vol. That joke's been used already."

"E-Eh? Okay, now I'm completely lost."

"Well gee, that didn't take long," Kanna giggled.

"Hmph."

They had camped out last night between Rakshek and Rakshek Resort because the monsters there were weakest. The Poms in that region were about as dangerous as cotton balls. Yet the psychologically-scarred Cloche still ended up muttering incessantly to herself as she rocked herself to sleep, trying not to think about the Poms nearby. Much to the annoyance of Kanna and C.P. After Cloche fell asleep Kanna drew a simple picture of a growling Pom and stuck it on the tent wall in front of where Cloche was curled up in a corner. It was the first thing she saw when she woke up. She jumped awake with a very loud yelp, tripped over Kanna and fell on a sleeping C.P., who being jolted awake nearly punched her on reflex. Kanna cracked up, exploding with much mirthful laughter at their expense. C.P. then grabbed Kanna, who still wasn't wearing anything from the night before, and threw her naked Reyvateil butt out of the tent and shut the flap. Good thing it was still dark. Nevertheless a suddenly panicked Kanna began yelling and cursing as she scrambled to get back inside, throwing hasty glances at the guys' tent nearby and nearly tearing the flap open before Cloche hurriedly opened it for her. Aw, isn't that nice? Even after being played a trick upon, Cloche is still considerate. You should hang your head in shame, Kanna.

So after all that, since Kanna was not on speaking terms with C.P. for the moment, she continued talking to Cloche.

"Anyway," she said, now decently dressed, and without even the slightest bit of shameful head-hanging, "you know how he always starts one of these things with a, 'Metafalss, the land of blah blah blah', and then throws in some stupid shittake before the main story starts. But he didn't do it this time, what's his deal?"

"I still don't know who you're talking about, Kanna."

Kanna reached over and grabbed Cloche's face with both palms, looking intently in her eyes. Cloche suddenly felt like a hamster being toyed with by a hungry cat.

"Work with me, Cloche. Just nod your head and say, 'Yeah, I know whatcha mean,'" she said, forcing Cloche's head up and down as she spoke the final words.

"Yeah, I know whatcha mean," the nodding Cloche recited, feeling as if another tiny piece of her soul had just died.

Suddenly Kanna was hit with inspiration, sustaining 1 HP of damage. "Oh! Maybe now's my chance!" she declared, _'pom'_-ming her fist into her palm in a very Izumi Konata-like way. "If he's just gonna suck today, then I, Kanna Ileris, will take his place and do the very first Character Intro!"

Kanna paused dramatically, having struck a triumphant pose and now awaiting a response from her audience.

Any response.

Well, a little birdie outside cheeped uncertainly.

"Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"NO," C.P.'s muffled voice said heavily from beneath her pillow, where she had fruitlessly been trying to get back to sleep.

"I'm sorry, Cloche, did you hear something?" Kanna said sweetly.

Cloche looked glum. She hated feeling caught in the middle.

"Well, then let's do this! M-m.

~ . ~ . ~

"Metafalss, the land of chaos! And also the land of beautiful young girls known as Reyvateils, whose mission it is to sing lovely hymns that can warm the soul, heal the body, and blow stuff up! (That's always been my favorite part.) But, tragically, these captivating songstresses don't have many years to live...sigh. Third-gens aren't as lucky as Betas or Origins. Sheez, just because we aren't built the same way doesn't mean the Tower has to go screwing with our bodies whenever we use Song Magic. I know it's old technology but surely somebody can figure out something...maybe make a firmware patch for us...make it available for download and distribution...restore the hopes and dreams of long life for all Third-gens without having to use stupid diquility...BUT NOOOOOOOOO! EVERY three months I gotta go stuff it up my-"

"...Well anyway. So! That just means we gotta live life to the fullest in the here and now! Seize the day! Yes, these energetic young lasses who know the brevity of life all too well know how to take hold of what's been given to them and make the most of it! And it is their spirit and vigor that can replenish this land and make it not suck so bad! Yeah! Reyvateils ARE the final hope for the restoration of all of Metafalss! And THAT..."

she proclaimed, with radiant eyes and a finger pointed squarely at the reader, if you can imagine it,

"...is my Intro!"

~ . ~ . ~

They say that silence is golden. Well after Kanna's intro, the inside of the girls' tent was pretty golden all right.

"Well whadja think?"

Cloche, looking anything but like the final hope for the restoration of all of Metafalss, hesitated before replying.

"Um...w-what do you mean by he throws in a bunch of mushrooms into the intro?"

Kanna picked up her pillow and bapped Cloche with it before she could blink.

Kanna was surprised, though, to find that C.P. had emerged from her blankets and was looking at her with a curious glare. But before she could avert her gaze and stick her nose in the air, C.P. spoke.

"Wow. You actually have a vocabulary."

"Shut the hell up," Kanna retorted.

_At least she's talking to her again, I guess,_ Cloche mused from beneath Kanna's pillow.

~ . ~ . ~

Heh. 'The Tower has to go screwing with our bodies'...thank you for that one, Kanna.

~ . ~ . ~

Several days earlier, some kid named Cocona hopped off the Souffle Axis train at the station in Enna. She was followed by her brotherly-type brother Croix, who stepped off the train easily, yet slightly wearily, as if he'd seen a lot of mileage in his short years. Oh, you ain't seen the half of it yet, buddy. Bringing up the rear - and it was a _big_ rear - was bulky Leglius, scooting his hefty feet off the train and hitting the station deck with a thud.

Ah, the historical town of Enna. That mangy ol' municipality of Metafalss. The mustiest of the musty. Legend has it that rich schoolkids from Pastalia who go on field trips to Enna to "further their education" return to their hometown smelling like old feet. Tourist-trappy town it was, too. Historical places usually are. But it was-

What?

No, of course you didn't see the touristy stuff in the game. Cheapo shops everywhere you look hardly make for compelling background art. But while we're lucky enough to get to see only the cool side of Enna, the poor chumps who lived there had to deal with the tacky reality that was Enna, Historical Tourist Town. Yeah, reality sucks, eh?

Well, then again, Enna isn't even a...nor is any of this...

Er...

Cocona, wanna take over? This is falling flat.

"So this is Enna?" Cocona chirped. "It's pretty rundown."

"Yeah, well it is the oldest town in the area," said Croix in a brotherly, glasses-wearing fashion.

"And unlike Pastalia," grunted Leglius, "this town has never been destroyed by quakes."

Or Quakers either, probably.

"This place breathes the history of Metafalss," he finished.

End in-game dialogue. Thanks, Coc'. Or would that be Coke? Nah, that just doesn't look right. What kind of nickname do people usually use for you, Cocona? Nobody's ever called you Coco, have they?

_Shut the heck up,_ Cocona thought, getting annoyed, but still too innocent at heart to go beyond 'heck', hee-hee.

~ . ~ . ~

Several days later, some shorty named Cloche hopped off the Souffle Axis train at the station in Enna. She stretched her arms wide as she sucked in a big breath of that history of Metafalss. Two seconds later she was doubled over, coughing her lungs out. Can't blame her.

The others gathered around her as they disembarked, asking if she was all right. Cloche responded by coughing like an old jalopy that won't start on a cold morning. She can't talk, duh. But that never stops people from asking, or from offering unsolicited assistance.

"Thumping her on the back should help!" Kanna said energetically.

All it did was add 'Ow' to her repetoire of larynx-twisting coughs, hacks, and wheezes.

"Hey! Not so hard!" Lance said to the energetically thumping Kanna. "She's delicate! You of all people should know."

Kanna stopped. Her eyes blazed as she glared at Lance. Girls with short fuses are fun. In fiction.

"Delicate? DELICATE?" she yowled. "So being Reyvateils automatically makes us fragile little weakling girls, is that it? Is that what you're trying to say?"

Well, yeah, kinda...but it wouldn't exactly be wise for him to admit it.

"N-No, I-"

"I bet Cloche could take a full-on punch in the back and she'd be just fine! Watch!"

Kanna reared up and balled her fist, ready to knock some HP out of Cloche's back for all the ATK she was worth. C.P., with greater SPD than Kanna, quickly caught her fist and held it back.

"Don't be a moron."

Nearby, a little girl was watching them open-mouthed and goggle-eyed. She tugged at her mother's sleeve. "Mommy, those people are weird."

"Sh!" her mother cautioned. "Don't stare. They're _adventurers._"

The girl caught the subtle shift in her mother's tone at that word, as well as the almost pitying look in her eyes. "Ohhh..." she said knowingly, feeling enlightened.

After Cloche quit coughing like someone who had just smoked a taco, they wandered on into Enna. Tourist-trappy shops walled them in, as did cheap eateries. Taiyaki stands. Takoyaki stands. Nekoyaki stands. That last one had just a tad bit of trouble attracting customers. One of the workers had even donned a cat mascot suit and was cheerfully greeting passers-by and announcing their menu specials, attempting to lure in business. But somehow, that just made people feel all the more creepy about stopping to eat there.

Cheap jewelry shops were next. One shop had slapped up a boring banner with the uninspired name 'Treasures of Enna' stamped across it. Boo. Who'd be lured in by such a blah name that exudes cheese?

Who, in the name of Frelia!

...Do you really have to guess?

Cloche's eyes were sparkly as she stared at all the pwetty twinkets. Bracelets, necklaces, earrings, songstone rings, Hymmnos charms. She thought they were all ever so delightful. When you don't know that merch like that usually comes from seedy manufacturers in The Slums who use poorly-paid, undocumented IPD laborers, you think it's all ever so delightful.

Some folks had set up shop on the street under the sky, showcasing Reyvateil fanart. Mostly of Reyvateils of folklore who had once lived in Enna, dressed in historical get-up and in period settings. The kind of stuff that nobody but historical-loli geeks, or the completely ignorant tourist who just bought the artwork because 'It's from Enna!', would appreciate.

Not far away from that, a vendor was selling fresh fish. Mm, tasty. Fresh fish is just always the best with-wait, what? Fresh fish! How did they-? Where-? What frickin' body of water did they pull that out of! Meh. Perhaps a better question would be why it is that when Jacqli thinks of food-to-go, she thinks of burgers. _Burgers?_ Who knew they had a McDrone's in Sol Marta?

Naturally, they had to stop by and rifle through the tourist apparel at a clothing shop, which carried t-shirts that said stuff like, 'My friends went to smell the history at Enna and all I got was this lousy t-shirt'. They had Hymmnos-language versions of that same sentiment as well. Rumor had it that if you sang the Hymmnos, the Song Server would swap out said lousy t-shirt with the snazziest duds from said friend's closet. But when Cloche tried it, all it did was send her into another coughing fit.

Elsewhere, a slightly dingy girl was selling something unique to Enna - Hum Crystals. Souvenir-ish knickknacks reminescent of the real thing. They actually did something, too - each one came with a written Hymmnos spell, and when one chanted the spell the Hum Crystal would glow and a shining animated sprite thingy of some sort would appear, such as a flying bird, or a blossoming flower, or some other girly crap. Lance immediately saw the potential of this, and excitedly asked flat-out, "Do you have any with naked girls?" Needless to say, the poor shopgirl had to do her best to keep her face from bottoming out while politely delivering a "No, sorry sir" to the unabashed pervert. Though the incident did give Kanna another opportunity to use her "Shut the hell up" phrase for the second time today.

Incidentally, Cloche and the slightly dingy girl hit it off, and ended up chatting for a short while. Figures. The others wandered off in search of sustenance, as Cloche and Dingy happily broached an array of mind-numbingly dull topics. Which for the sake of the author's and the reader's well-being, shall be gratefully bypassed in this narrative.

_F*** Your S***! I'm enjoying myself!_ Cloche yelled in her thoughts at the author.

Yeeks! Almost forgot that there was a Dark Cloche lurking in that cuteness! Sheez...you been hanging around 4chan lately, Cloche?

Shortly thereafter, the sustenance-gatherers had found what they sought and were busily munching. C.P. had settled on some Kettle Rice. Lance, PuchiPuni Eggs...for some unfathomable reason. Kanna and Burl were chowing on a shared Charbroiled BBQ and Droopy Soda. Aw, they're _sharing._ Doesn't that sound endearing? Actually, it was because they had challenged each other. Who could eat the fastest? The loser would go hungry. So this potentially endearing moment had turned into a mad scramble replete with flying BBQ sauce and Droopy Soda sloshing all over the place. Which was why C.P. and Lance had chosen to sit down somewhere else. Kanna was actually winning by a long shot. She could really pig it when the need arose.

"Shud dh hrll ub!"

Tsk, tsk, Kanna. You're gonna lose your lead if you get distracted.

Nearby, C.P. was staring grotesquely at Lance as she watched him chew a gap in his stringy-looking PuchiPuni Egg and proceed to sluck it up noisily like a big noodle.

"You know, that's really gross when you do that."

"But you were watching me the whole time, eh? Wanna see me do it again?" he grinned, proudly holding up another egg.

C.P. turned away, glumly poking at her rice with her chopsticks. She began to think that somehow her meal would have tasted better at the other table. This picture of the warrior-girl brooding over her bowl inspired an impromptu haiku from the narrator:

_C.P. eating rice  
Idiots all around her  
It tastes blah today_

"I'm glad you're enjoying my misery," C.P. mumbled.

A gust of wind suddenly arose, and a flying sheet of paper ended up slapping C.P. on the face. Irritated, she pulled it off, then discovered that there was writing on it.

"To be continued..." she read aloud. "Eh?"

~ . ~ . ~

To be continued? Gah! Why? Whyyy, for the love of Frelia's green shoes?

Sigh...because time is short, but the art is long - to paraphrase incorrectly from an ancient quote or some junk. Besides, it's time to take a bath and watch some more Minami-ke, dadgummit!

(...No, no those two items are _not_ related. Perverts.)


	8. Ep 6 dot 5: You Mean Theres A Plot?

a/n: this is chapter 6.5, acutally - - not chapter 8 like FFnet insists. why 6.5? because i had wanted to include all the events in this chap into the previous chap, but then it got too long, so i just split it. not that anyone but me would care about that, really. i'm eating curry rice for lunch right now, by the way. and drinking 7up. not that anyone but me would care about that, really.

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**Suckage of Metafalss ep6.5: You Mean There's a Plot?**

Metafalss, the land of oh let's just get on with it.

After Cloche finished exchanging ditzy witticisms with the slightly dingy shop girl, she caught up with the others and stopped to grab a bite to eat herself (a pack of Funbuns and some Kitty Candy...junk food GET). Then it was off to the main attraction of this sad sack of a run-down historical town: the Ruins of Enna Palace.

Ah, the stately and ancient Palace of Enna. Once the seat of government for the entire Rim...until it got trashed during an IPD outbreak. Now it was mostly an eyesore. But, the plentiful historical markers pointing "This Way To Enna Palace!" still drew the occasional curiosity-seeker to its bombed-out buttresses. Once there, visitors were generally free to roam its magnificent halls of past-tense opulence, soaking up the remarkable craftsmanship of its burned-up, smashed-up, and crumbling architecture as they went.

"Well this sucks," Kanna said after about 13 seconds of roaming the trashed palace. "Let's go already."

"W-Wait just a minute," Cloche stammered. "We haven't seen everything yet."

"What's there to see? Rubble? Cracked walls? I saw enough of that as a kid, thanks."

"B-but...who knows what mysteries may lie hidden deeper within?" Cloche said mysteriously (hm, apropos adverb). A faraway look fell across her face as she turned her gaze toward the darkened interior of the ruins. "Who knows what we may find in there...? Maybe...maybe even a clue...about the past of this world."

Sorry Cloche. Said clue was already used by Luca to trick up Soope into a talking backpack by this point. Guess that just leaves you clueless.

"Or there may be loot," Lance offered.

"Yeeah!" Burl chimed, shooting out a thumbs-up. And with that, they plumbed further into the depths of the palace.

Hours later, after stumbling through vast mounds of rubble and slapping their way past the occasional knobbly-kneed monster, they had found no hidden mysteries. And no loot.

"Well this sucks," Kanna said. "Let's go already."

"B-But-"

"Don't 'b-but' me, Cloche. I'm tired and I'm irritated. I wanna go soak in a nice hot bath and then go to bed."

"Yeah, me too," Burl said as he moved to put a manly arm around Kanna's shoulders.

"ALONE," she cried, shouldering his arm away.

"Dangit."

Dream on, Burl. Maybe one day you'll get the chance. But for now just work on those talk topics.

As they trudged their way out of the palace, Burl attempted to do just that. He struck up a conversation with Kanna - hoping she wouldn't strike him back - - about that comment she made earlier about being a kid, and the cracked walls.

"Yeah...what about it?" she grumbled.

"I thought you grew up in Pastalia."

"I did."

"But...when I think of Pastalia, cracked walls and rubble don't exactly come to mind."

"Not everyone there is rich, ya know. There's run-down districts too."

"Oh. Well, which district are you from?"

"Shut up," she said irritably, quickly tiring of being interviewed.

Burl took 103 HP damage to his psyche from Kanna's verbal slap. May not seem like much, but he's still low-level, so, ya know. A few moments passed before he recovered enough to pout in a quiet, mopey voice:

"The Kanna in your Cosmosphere doesn't tell me to shut up."

His gaze glanced ahead to Lance, who was, oddly enough, carrying Cloche on piggyback, with his arms wrapped around her outstretched legs. Some time earlier she had started to whine about her feet hurting after all that walking around in the rubble and ruins - - which had originally been her idea in the first place, but when Lance reminded her of that, she had just simply sat down, muttering that she was too tired to keep going. Could've been a prime moment for someone in the party to shake her out of her suddenly bratty mood, but instead she had asked Lance if he would carry her...while making the biggest, roundest, I'm-a-nineteen-year-old-Reyvateil-and-I-probably-don't-have-much-longer-to-live-because-we-Reyvateils-die-young-you-know-so-please-baby-me-while-you-still-can puppy dog eyes she could make. Now Cloche appeared full of joy, while Lance seemed unburdened by carrying her, being the half-pint that she was. Burl couldn't help feeling just a small punch in the gut of jealousy. He wished he could have enjoyed a closer relationship with his Reyvateil, like Lance and Cloche seemed to have. Poor Burlie. But it's your own fault, bub. You're the one who liked strawberry blonde hair. And pigtails. And shining green eyes. Don't complain that the contents of the box aren't as wonderful as the pretty packaging. She's a Reyvateil - - it comes with the territory.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Cloche was beaming with joy at having successfully manipulated her companion into carrying her. Lance was always a sucker for her puppy dog eyes. Using one's cuteness to toy with people could be fun! And although she was rather small, Lance was already getting a bit tired of feeling like a donkey (even though he already was one...eh, somewhat dry pun). _Jeez, what've you been eating lately, woman?_ was his thought when he had first taken her onto his back. He wished that his partner wasn't so needy...wished that his Reyvateil could be more independent and feisty like Burl's was.

The grass is always greener on the other side, dudes.

Speaking of the other side, it wasn't long after they emerged from the ruined palace's dank darkness...or dark dankness...or dang dark darkness...or ding dong dank - - ehh, you get the picture - - that their eyes fell upon another side of Enna Palace. After they picked their eyes up, they marveled at the stately state of this other section of the former state building. How many times can we use 'state' in one sentence? As many as the number of licks it takes for Mr. Owl to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop. Hm. One wonders...does that reference feel a bit antiquated these days? Is the narrator's age beginning to show?

C.P. popped the lollipop she was sucking out of her mouth and stated, "Will the narrator drop the tangent and get back to our world, please?"

Yeah, yeah. Orange and cherry Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pops are the best.

This other side of Enna Palace looked not-so-rubble-filled, not-so-bombed-out, spruced-up, shined-up, and nifty to behold. It gave one the feeling that one was getting a taste of what the palace was like in its former days of glory. And the gentle rays of the fading sky of the late afternoon didn't hurt, either. Everything looks awesomer in the late afternoon. Night sucks. Day sucks. But late afternoon skies are the sheezaw.

And zip it, C.P. Don't blather about 'awesomer' not being a word. Or 'sheezaw'.

As C.P. began moodily crunching her lollipop to occupy her tongue, the others were getting hopped up about the newly remodeled section's utter niftiness.

"Heyyy...this part looks nicer," Lance mouthed.

"Why didn't we come to this side first?" Kanna whined.

"Well all the historical marker signs were pointing to that other side."

"Hmph. Well someone needs to change the damn signs."

Cloche started giggling for some reason.

"What's so funny?" said Pigtails.

"What would you change the signs to?" Shorty grinned.

"_The Real Enna Palace Is This Way, Dammit!_" she spouted, jabbing with pointed finger at the Nicer Side.

Cloche's giggles turned into chortles. No one else was amused. Actually, strike that - - they were slightly amused by her unexplainable mirth. Face it - - when someone just starts giggling for no good reason, an observer can hardly help but crack a grin, even if only inwardly. And C.P.'s grin-cracking was _very_ inward.

_All the way down to Lv. 34 to be exact, past 3 dungeon bosses,_ C.P. expounded in her thoughts.

Wow. For a teenager, you're so old-school, C.P.

Drawn to it like Hiiragi Kagami to a pile of snacks, the five of them found themselves entering and wandering about the refurbished side of the Palace, forgetting all about their fatigue and crankiness. Hm. Might this be a good time to remind the reader that they had just waltzed right into the headquarters of the Sacred Army without realizing it? Perhaps. After all, this was a minor point, and for most, it's probably been a while since Ar tonelico 2 was last played. So then.

Without realizing it, they had just waltzed right into the headquarters of the Sacred Army. And somewhere in the world, a reader facepalmed.

"Ooooh, it sure is pretty!" Cloche cooed, eyeballing the fancy interior and the lovely green motif. And the reverb she felt from her "Ooooh" resounding through the empty hallways also gave her a good feeling.

But C.P. quickly shushed her. "Quiet. There are soldiers about."

"SOLDIERS?" Lance burst out rather loudly.

"I'm going to run away and leave you guys to get killed if you do that again."

"Oh! Right!" he whispered. After which, he somehow felt it necessary to do a do-over. "SOLDIERS?" he cried in a much smaller voice.

"Would you stop?" C.P. hissed. "This isn't some kind of comedy show!"

Says you, C.P. But at the moment, most of the soldiers were gathered in the assembly hall, awaiting Targana's appearance and subsequent rousing speech. The rest were goofing off. This conveniently allowed five sets of footsteps to trudge down the otherwise silent halls _completely unnoticed_. Ain't fiction grand? As they wound their way through the Sacred Army HQ looking for anything lootable that wasn't nailed or bolted down, they suddenly heard voices.

"VOICES?" he cried in a very whispery voice.

Shut up, Lance. The voices of the gathered soldiers had reached their ears. Curious, they sneaked about, following the sound, until eventually they found themselves spying upon the scene in the assembly hall, hidden from an upstairs balcony. Lance and Burl recognized a game sprite or two in the crowd.

"It's Mr. Sissy Man!"

"And the girl in the purple bedsheets!"

"Yukata!"

That's right, kiddies - - Chester and Luca were there, as was Croix, having chosen Luca's path, the sucker. Cloche, meanwhile, was squealing something about the "cute blue doggie". But there was not much time left for snide comments, as Targana entered stage right, proudly displaying his bare, smooth chest for all to see - - the envy of hairy fat men everywhere. He took center stage, harrumphed a couple of times, and began:

"Thank you all for gathering today, my elite force! The situation is even more intense now, but we are taking the lead. If we let this chance slip away, we will all regret it later. We will begin our push to fulfill one of our goals. Which is to silence Infel Pira! In case you didn't know, IPD stands for..."

Lance's attention began to wane. He found himself wishing for an egg that he could throw at the crowd, just to spice things up a bit.

"...To explain our plan of attack, Sir Shun."

Shun began to speak. "In all honesty, our plan isn't that complicated. We just need our Holy Maiden to use the Hymn Crystal Hibernation."

Lance's ears snapped to attention. Meanwhile, Cloche was squealing something about the "cute blue _talking_ doggie".

"Hibernation is the only Song that can stop Infel Pira. The Hymn Crystal itself is stored in a certain facility. I'm talking about the tall white ruin called the Conductor Activator. Our mission today is simply to retrieve that Hymn Crystal. That is all."

Fully alert now, Lance suddenly turned to Burl. Burl was picking his nose. Lance tried again and suddenly turned to C.P. She returned his significant glance. A knowing spark was in her eyes - - ahh, that was the reaction he was looking for.

Because now they finally knew precisely where to find a Hymn Crystal. See? There _is_ a plot after all.

The rest of Targana's rah-rah speech was lost to his ears as he quickly scuttled out of the balcony, motioning for the others to follow. Once they were safely away from the assembly hall, Lance rounded on Kanna, looking rather smug.

"And YOUUUU didn't believe in me that day in the Pippen Pub! YOUUUU did nothing but gripe and whine about everything I said! Well, whaddya have to say NOW, Miss Priss?"

Kanna looked as though she had just been forced to watch the entirety of Endless Eight - - twice. "So what? It was sheer luck that we found this place! And heard that speech!"

No, no Kanna. It's called Plot Convenience. Ain't fiction grand?

But Lance was too juiced up about Step 1 of his plan becoming a reality to pay any heed to Kanna's fussing. He sang happy phrases. He danced happy dances. He embarrassed himself. The others felt shamed just by watching.

After 24 seconds, C.P. could take no more, and turned to leave. "Y'know, we'd better get out of here before any of those soldiers - -"

And she bumped right into two of any of those soldiers.

"Who are you and what are you doing?" one of them barked at C.P. "Uh, I mean, uh..."

Kanna facepalmed. "Oh no, not this again."

The other soldier shouldered the first out of the way and pointed his finger in C.P.'s face. "Listen, kid. This is the headquarters of the Sacred Army, and you're intruders. So you're gonna come with us quietly and we'll see what the Big Boss wants ta do with you."

C.P. was perfectly calm. "We outnumber you," she said plainly.

The soldier glared at the five of them, sizing up his opposition. They looked about as impressive to him as an Egg McMuffin looks to a hungry lumberjack. "Two wussies and three little girls?" he rumbled. I could take all o' ya all by myself."

"Those other girls are Reyvateils."

"So?"

"Their song magic will kick you butts."

_W-Why are you dragging me into this, C.P.?_ Cloche thought, cowering like a freshly washed car underneath a flock of pigeons.

Kanna, however, was getting peppery. "That's right!" she bellowed. "Don't make me break out my Chuck Norris song magic can of whoop ass!"

At the completely anachronistic reference which no one but she and Burl understood, the tense situation suddenly froze in utter perplexed silence for the next five seconds.

Finally, very slowly, Lance said, "...Who in the name of Frelia's stinky underpants is Chuck Norris?"

To which Burl sweatdroppingly answered, "Eheheh...new song magic. From the other day."

But the soldier went into a rage. He flew at Lance, grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him off his feet. "What'd you just say about Our Goddess? I rage!"

The other soldier lunged at C.P., who just barely managed to dodge, and in less time than it took AiAi and MeeMee to snarf a banana had put distance between herself and the soldier and drawn her chain whip.

"H-Hey, buddy," Lance spluttered, "I-It was just a joke, y'know?"

"That's not a joke! Nobody disrespects Our Goddess in that way!"

"B-But I thought you guys were supposed to be a compassionate sort who want to make this a better world - -"

"You can't make this a better world without busting a few heads! Get ready to learn some manners, pipsqueak!"

It was precisely at that moment that a couple of perverted doujin slipped out from somewhere inside his outer raiment and flopped onto the floor. The soldier glanced down. Suddenly his eyes widened.

"GAAAAAAAAAASP!" he inhaled, dropping Lance and snatching up the doujin. "Where did you get these?" he said breathlessly, sounding like a Lady Cloche who was getting ready to dive into a tub full of Pippens.

"Uh, well, I-I've had them for a while..." Lance said, picking himself up.

"These are almost impossible to find!"

"Huh? What is?" the other soldier grunted.

"Look!" He boldly held out the porn comics for his compatriot to see. The other had pretty much the same reaction - - jaw-dropping, googly-eyed gasping.

And the girls? Well, they were already too used to this sort of thing from Burl and Lance to spew forth much of a negative reaction. Too blunted now, yes, too blunted had their sensibilities become.

As they rifled through the pages like greedy kids through a sack of Willy Wonkas, Lance made them an offer. "How 'bout we trade? You keep those, and, uh, you let us go?"

The first guard looked up, glaring. He seemed torn. As if torn between a momentous decision. Doujin or duty? Aurica or Misha? Espeon or Umbreon?

Before he could change his mind he blurted, "We close our eyes and count to ten. We open our eyes and still see you, you die."

They were flying down the halls and out of sight by "two". Even C.P., confident in her abilities as she was, knew when it was better not to engage in unnecessary fisticuffs.

Zooming away from the luxurious side of the Palace, Cloche seemed giddy with glee. "Run away! Run away!" she cried in a very Monty-Python-and-the-Holy-Grail-like way...except she was also laughing and running with her fists in the air as she went.

_Wait, she's actually enjoying this?_ the others couldn't help but wonder as they ran. Well...Cloche is the type to go coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs at the oddest of times.

They didn't stop running until they reached the inn - - because you just never know when a gang of compassionate people will suddenly snap and come after you in a screaming rage. Even after reaching the inn they didn't slow down as they tore through the lobby and headed for the stairs.

"Why hello again, Mr. Doof!" the innkeep cheerfully called to Lance as he passed. Cloche nearly fell over as she burst into a fresh peal of laughter.

"Cloche, for crying out - -! Wouldja just - -?" Lance spluttered fruitlessly as he bounded up the stairs, trying not to let Cloche's rollicking guffaws get under his skin. Cloche herself was having trouble navigating the stairs from all the squealing laughter and broken giggles of "Mr. Doof!" that she was gushing. She was the last one up as she half-stumbled, half-crawled her way up the stairs.

It was at times like these that the innkeep recalled the words of his dearly departed innkeeper grandfather, who had taught him the trade. _Sonny, always remember - - no matter what kind of wackos you get in your rooms, so long as they're paying customers and don't blow up the joint, it's all good._


	9. Ep7: YOU SEE THE HAT? I AM MRS NESBITT!

a/n: man, i'm tired. and i still have 3 more eps of this to reformat for FFnet and post today. i just feel like syncing it now with what's already been posted on a reyvateil's melody.

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**Ep 7: "YOU SEE THE HAT? I AM MRS. NESBITT!"**

Meanwhile, somewhere between Mint Block and Lady Cloche's dresser drawer full of rumpled pantyhose...

Three girls were lounging 'round the ol' campfire out on the nighttime adventure trail. The Other Cloche was once again whining about how little she resembled her famous namesake, as she sat staring blandly into the fire. Kanna, wishing she could suddenly go deaf, was sprawled un-ladylike not far from Cloche, looking like she was simultaneously suffering from really bad indigestion and from having watched too many episodes of Kimi Ga Nozomu Eien. Hearing too much whining can sometimes do that to feisty people. C.P., on the other hand, was coping with the situation by lazily whistling a pretty song to herself - - Haibane Renmei's _Free Bird_ - - as she lay staring at the stars, hands clasped behind her head. How could she possibly know of such a song when it's not even a part of her world, you ask? Hmm...maybe a better question would be: what flavor of Linux do you suppose the Tower Designers went with for Sol Marta's OS? Debian? OpenSUSE? Pish-tosh. Gotta be Gentoo, Slackware, or hand-compiled from source - - _real_ hacker shittake.

That being said, the narrator uses Debian-based Ubuntu. Suuuck.

"...but it's like, who knew I would suck so bad as a human being?" Cloche droned on, oblivious as to whether or not anyone was actually listening. "I just...I don't understand. Sigh. Why, oh why did my dad ever name me after Lady Cloche? I'm nothing like her. Don't look like her...don't sound like her...can't sing like her...not as pretty as her...it's like, if I'm named after her, you'd think I'd share in just a little bit of her awesomeness." She looked down at herself. "Or bustiness. But no, no...I'm just flat, dumb, boring ol' Cloche Burr. Half-pint and loser. And stuck on Cosmosphere Level 2. But people say, 'Well those are just externals! It's what you're like on the inside that counts!' Well on the inside I'm nothing like Lady Cloche, either. She's smart...I'm dumb. She's charming...I'm blah. And she's a great leader...I can't even lead a tea party of my own stuffed animals."

Slight embarrassed pause at that last bit. Even C.P. had suddenly stopped her whistling.

Three seconds later, Kanna pounced.

"You have tea parties with your stuffed animals?" she blared, grinning like a high school bully who had finally found her victim's weak spot.

Cloche suddenly felt as trapped as a tiny fearful-eyed kitten in a cardboard box about to be groped and manhandled by a flock of blushing schoolgirls all squealing _'Kawaiiiiiiiiiiii!'_

"N...N-Not anymore!" she stammered after another embarrassed pause.

"Oh, reeeeeeally?" Kanna said deliciously. "So when was the last time you had one of these tea parties then, hmmmmmm?"

Cloche clamped her lips shut and turned away to stare at the fire, trying to look casual. It's hard to look casual when you're wide-eyed and sweating bullets.

"No comment, she says," Kanna giggled evilly, crawling ever closer to Cloche and beginning to invade her personal space.

C.P. spoke up, her voice plain and casual, as if the world were full of many more important things to think about. "So what. So she has tea parties with her stuffed animals, big deal. I used to have tea parties with my dolls, too."

"But how long ago?"

"When I was real little."

Kanna was grinning so much now that she was about ready to drool. "Heeee! See, that's what one would normally expect! But Cloche here, on the other hand..."

"And another thing. It's a little-known fact that Lady Cloche herself loves stuffed animals and cute things. Her personal chambers are loaded with cute stuff.

"What? Nuh-uh!"

"Don't make me say 'yeah-huh'. It's true."

"Well how come I've never heard of that before?"

"That would be the definition of 'little-known fact'."

"Then how do _you_ know?"

"I caught a Grand Bell Knight sleeping once and tortured him through the night...made him spill all sorts of juicy details about Lady Cloche and her government's secrets."

Kanna was speechless.

Cloche was dumbfounded.

Even the crickets that had been chirring away suddenly went dead silent.

"Just kidding," C.P. said, without a trace of a smile.

"You're a scary girl sometimes, you know that?" Kanna said, involuntarily edging herself a few centimeters further away from the warrior-girl.

C.P. merely resumed her lazy whistling, looking for all the world like a very relaxed Goemon.

Kanna, turning her attention back to her Cloche-shaped victim, decided to tease her in a supportive fashion - - if there is such a thing. "Well if that's really true, then you know what that means? It means you _are_ a little like Lady Cloche after all! You're always wanting to be like her, so now, there you go! You have your thing for cute stuff in common with her!"

Cloche, with her personal space still being invaded by a leering Kanna, mumbled, "That wasn't exactly the kind of thing I had in mind."

"Well, take what you can get, right?"

The words stung poor Cloche's socially-maladjusted heart. "You're mean, Kanna," she suddenly said, breaking away from her and curling herself up into a ball on the ground, with her back to Kanna.

"Why don't you have a tea party to cheer yourself up?" C.P. suggested.

"You too, C.P," Cloche pouted.

"I wasn't picking on you. If it makes you happy, it makes you happy. Why should you care what we think? Just enjoy yourself."

...Tch! Quit trying to fling bits of wisdom into this comedy fic, C.P.!

Meanwhile, Kanna, looking rather remorseless about having picked on Cloche like a roly-poly until she curled up into a ball, commented, "You know, that doesn't fit my image of you, C.P. _You,_ playing with _dolls?_ In a _tea party?_"

"Why? I was a little girl."

"But still! I mean...this is _you_ we're talking about."

"Well...I also used to trash my tea party setup in a rampage while I bashed my dolls in the face with a _bokken._ It was a ninja tea party."

More silence ensued.

"Okay, I can totally see that."

C.P. merely resumed her lazy whistling, looking for all the world like a very relaxed Jin. Sans _megane._

Kanna crawled over to Cloche, seemingly eager to chomp and tear off another piece of her dignity. She tried to inspect Cloche's face, but the flustered Cloche simply buried herself in her arms.

"It looks like we're not enjoying ourselves over here yet," Kanna giggled.

"Go away," came Cloche's muffled voice.

Suddenly Kanna stood up, with an important announcement to make. "I have an important announcement to make," she declared. Hurr. "For the next few minutes, we shall attempt to cheer up Cloche through the use of stuffed animals! But first...we need to gather information! Hmm...what kind of stuffed animals would make Cloche the happiest right now?" she mused.

"Gergo," C.P. replied immediately.

"Too common," Kanna dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"Geugo."

"Too butt-like."

"Poms."

Cloche let out a stifled squeak and winced.

"Let's save Cloche's freaking out over a Pom for when _I_ need cheering up."

"Wyverns."

"Those aren't cute."

"Says you."

"I-got-it-I-got-it! What about Pippens?" Kanna beamed.

"No, those are only good for target practice."

"Like those newer ones they make that are so soft and squishy!" she went on, ignoring C.P. "Some of them can even do Song Server stuff when you squeeze 'em, now. You get a hug and a cute song magic at the very same time! But sometimes the server function farts and the Pippen just blows up. I've heard that especially happens with the cheap knock-offs."

"How's an exploding Pippen supposed to cheer up Cloche?"

"Will everybody just stop talking about stuffed animals already?" Cloche cried.

"Girls, girls!" Lance said casually as he and Burl strolled up from the woody darkness after having searched in vain for a good nighttime fishing spot (because like a couple of knuckleheads they forgot that Metafalss has no standing bodies of water). "What's all the hubbub, bub? C'mon! There's a beautiful Infel Phira out tonight...we've got fire, we've got food...why bicker amongst ourselves? Right now this is as good as it gets." He sat down next to Cloche and gave her a couple of chummy pats on her back, looking for all the world as if he were patting his favorite pet Labrador Retriever.

"Please dear Goddess, don't ever walk up and say something like that again," Kanna sighed.

"Say something like what?" Lance grinned. "What's all the hub - -"

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Kanna screamed - - one of those high-pitched, eardrum-piercing girl screams that only girls can scream. You know the kind. Burl about choked on the Kurku Cake Bar he was munching just from the sheer decibels emanating from her lungs. Loud girl is loud...or so they might say.

After the last echoes died away, C.P. lazily raised a forearm, her hand balled into a fist. "Hey Kanna...come closer to my fist and do that again," she said.


	10. Ep8: Curdled Milk, It Does A Body Vomit!

a/n: the curdled milk running gag reappears...

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**Ep 8: Curdled Milk, It Does A Body Vomit!**

Meanwhile, somewhere between Luca's DSM-IV Manual and Targana's stash of cosmetics for bishies...

It was sunset. The fading sky was coloring the world in a deep reddish orange, blanketing the vast, foul and poisonous Sea of Death in a warm, soft glow. It reminded one of how delightful it was to look upon a cute, yandere loli...even as she was coming at you with a meat cleaver, the cold, steely gaze of murder written in her soft, angelic eyes. After another long, hard day's worth of adventuring - - or another long, meandering day's worth of wandering about Metafalss trying to make money the easy way while in the end contributing nothing useful to society, depending upon how you looked at it - - the five NPCs were all tired, ready to pick out a spot of nice, comfy airmetal to sleep on amidst all the ancient machinery and forgotten technology of the Tower, and set up camp and settle down for another evening of watching the stars come out underneath the open sky. After all, even if their exploits weren't pro-social, they still felt as though they had earned a well-deserved rest after all the sweaty hours of dungeon-crawling and random-monster-battling of the day.

Deciding upon a spot at last, Lance dropped his gear with a thud and breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's Miller Time," he declared.

But not for C.P. the teetotaler. For her, it would only be milk time, as she sat searching through their provisions for some milk while the others were already passing around the tallboys of Donta. After a minute of digging, she pulled out the object of her desire: a small bottle of Otanjoubi Traveling Milk - - no refrigeration required. Perfect for on-the-go adventurers...or on-the-go birthday parties (and if anyone out there has ever heard of an "on-the-go birthday party", please, do tell). The cheerful artwork of the cute, happy little birthday loli on the packaging was part of the dairy manufacturer's overall birthday-themed marketing strategy. The theme even went down to the expiration date on the packaging, which was printed according to the Two Ring Method, rather than the standard date format...guaranteed to confuse the mochi balls out of anyone who never bothered to keep up with such traditions. Yet as fate would have it, the strategy actually worked; the Otanjoubi line was moderately successful, despite it being an enormously fruit-loopy idea puked up by some drunk marketing cheeseheads after having watched one too many Japanese game shows. Guess using moe as a marketing gimmick works no matter what planet you're on...

...said the narrator as he glanced at his stack of moe-infested Lucky Star comics.

Meanwhile, Kanna had her own opinion to spout about dumb marketing of a different sort. "I swear, every time I see one of those stupid Donta ads, it makes me think it's some kind of fruit juice," Kanna said after chugging down a healthy swig of booze.

Well...in a way, it _could_ be seen as fruit juice. There _was_ a bit of a fruity element to the drink. And depending on which anime you watch, certain characters naïvely mistake it for the non-alcoholic kind and innocently guzzle it down - - and hilarity ensues as the ethics of depicting minors consuming alcohol are somehow artfully dodged (hooray!). Anyway...now you know what all those "Donta" signs plastered all over Metafalss are for. Which begs the question - - would it be legal for Sasha to sell any of it in her General Store? She has a sign for it, but she's a minor. Idea - - let's zip on over to her store and find out! Now going to World Map...

"Oh, it's perfectly fine!" Sasha brightly chirped in answer to our legal query. "I just can't drink any. And I don't like that kind of fruit juice, anyway. It smells funny. A-Actually, I don't drink any of the drinks we sell. Well...except for the strawberry sodas sometimes. B-But I always make sure to pay for it so we don't lose any money!"

What a good kid. Almost makes one want to set off firecrackers under her pillow while she's sleeping. Maybe in the next game she doesn't give off such a pure vibe. Anyway, back to our program...

By the way, Kanna...a cute girl chugging on a tallboy is very un-moe-like. Your marketability's gonna diminish.

"_*BURRP*_ the hell up," Kanna groused at the narrator, losing even more moe stat points.

Finally settled at last, the weary five were gathered 'round a makeshift meal of BBQ, rice, and assorted junk food. C.P. was glum. She was sick of BBQ, and she didn't have much taste for junk food. That left the rice and her Otanjoubi Traveling Milk. Might not make much of a meal, but she figured she could get by on it for tonight - - it was better than BBQ, anyway. Checking the expiration date, she noted that it still had plenty of shelf life. But after she cracked open the outer seal and peeled away the inner tampering seal...

Curdled.

Figures. C.P. sighed...the kind of heavy, soul-weary sigh that Kyon would sigh every time Haruhi opened her fat mouth. But oh well...they still had more bottles in their inventory. Surely one of them should still be good.

Five bottles later, C.P. sat with her brow twitching, staring in disbelief at six bottles of Otanjoubi Traveling Milk - - no refrigeration required - - all from differnt lots, all still good according to the expiration dates. All curdled.

It was at times like these that the sheer suckage of life in Metafalss could punch a Leglius-sized hole in even the most stoic-minded warrior girl's calm temperament, and she suddenly ends up snapping like a Pocky stick. Cue teenage girl rage mode.

C.P. viciously grabbed a Traveling Milk and shot to her feet. She then shoved the bottle in Cloche's face. "Look at this expiration date!" she yelled. "LOOK AT IT! WHAT DOES IT SAY?"

The poor bewildered Reyvateil, with a bottle of nasty milk five centimeters from her nose where there was open space two seconds before, and with three Pippencuits at once already in her mouth, could only reply with a "Mmhph?"

Thrusting the bottle almost up Kanna's nose next, C.P. thundered at her, "WHAT DOES IT SAY?"

Now normally, Kanna was the type to yell back, and yell louder, when being yelled at. But in this case, confronted with such an unusual spectacle as the cool-headed C.P. suddenly throwing a hissy fit and waving around a bottle of milk decorated with a cute birthday girl, she felt as though it'd be best to keep from becoming part of the show.

"Uh...Cello 8th Rain, Viola 24th Light?" she said conservatively.

"Cello, 8th Rain! Viola, 24th Light!" C.P. boomed. "That's WEEKS from now! So why is it curdled?" She wildly waved an arm at the other five bottles sitting innocuously on the ground. "WHY ARE THEY ALL CURDLED?" Then she dashed off, delivering a nasty kick to the bottles on the ground as she went. Angrily she sped toward an edge where the Tower ended and the sky began. Skidding to a stop some distance short, she bellowed a malediction at the remaining bottle still gripped in her hand.

"CURDLED MILK - - SAY HELLO TO THE SEA OF DEATH!"

And with all her might, she chucked it off into the sky. Or at least...that's what she had planned to do.

The bottle ricocheted off a piece of forgotten technology jutting out from overhead, and with perfect irony, flew back at her and smacked her right on the cranium, splattering chunky white stuff all over her game sprite. You know...doesn't it always seem as though the Goddess, or fate, or the powers that be, or whatever, have a way of making a mockery of people at the very moment that they are the most pissed off?

And somewhere deep within a hidden nook of Kanakana Pier, locked away within Her dive machine canister filled with moe-preserver-juice, Frelia-sama cracked a tiny grin, a small pair of bubbles escaping from Her lips as She gave an ever-so-soft chuckle.

For a few moments, C.P. simply stood in stoic, sopping silence (don'tcha just love alliteration?), silhouetted against the background of ancient machinery and a reddened sky. A solemn GUST of wind blew (pft), tousling her long, dripping braid in the breeze. Yup, the narrator can sense it. You're trying to recover your shattered sense of dignity by striking an almost manly pose...arent'cha, C.P.? Sorry, not gonna happen.

Then, briskly, she walked back to the others, at one point slipping on one of the puddles of milk that had resulted from her kicking all those cute little birthday girls in the face, nearly losing her footing in the process. Her face registered not a sign that she had slipped, or that anything else out of the ordinary had just happened, as she plopped herself back down in her spot amongst the circle of her party. Up close, they could all see clearly now how abundantly her hair, face, and clothes were splashed with malodorous moo juice. But no one dared smile or speak.

Though every single one of their bellies were about fit to explode with laughter.

Oh, they were able to hold it in for about nine seconds though, and in that time the silence was only broken once by a single, solitary, half-snorted "Knh!" that managed to escape from a tightly clamped set of lips, source undetermined. But in the end, Kanna was the first to crack, though she dared not laugh in C.P.'s face directly. Thus resulting in the following somewhat clichéd tactic:

"Oh look there's something over there!" she blurted out in a rush, half-giggling as she jumped to her feet and ran for safety - - safety being a towering embankment of ancient machinery and forgotten technology a short distance away, where she could duck behind and hide before she exploded. Cloche almost immediately followed her lead, chortling, "Where? I wanna see!" as she sprinted off after Kanna. The guys didn't even bother with mimicking the girls' obvious pretense - - they just up and ran after Cloche, covering their mouths and spluttering as they booked.

Moments later, the merry sound of four fantasy characters laughing their guts out could be heard rollicking across the twilight air of Metafalss. Toldja, C.P. Not gonna happen. However, she merely closed her eyes and tried to refocus herself by thinking of something Buddha-like.

_The laughter of fools will soon become the sorrow of the wise._

Okay, so that wasn't from Buddha. Sounds more like from a fortune cookie. And it didn't sound like a very happy thought, either. Geez, C.P., no wonder you're so serious, with stuff like that running through your head. As the Joker once said, _"Why so serious?"_

On second thought...don't take wisdom from a homicidal maniac. At least Buddha didn't slam pencils through people's skulls and call it a magic trick. Though that _was_ rather clever.


	11. Ep9:How Do You Say Put It In in Hymmnos?

a/n: and now for the lamest chapter in the whole thing so far. i liked the idea of a cute little Kanna and her apathetic mother, but i don't think the execution came off right. also, i had forgotten about the show-within-a-show _The Happy Little Elves_ from the Simpsons, which makes _The Happy Little Reyvateils_ sound like a cheap uninspired knock-off. oh well. and there's other issues too. but hope ya enjoy, anyway.

* * *

**Ep. 9: How Do You Say "Put It In" in Hymmnos?**

Meanwhile, back in the bad old days of 3758 A.D., when Cynthia was still churning out smelly diapers for her mother to change and little Leyka was imitating her dad's sword practice, having a blast wielding about a magical girl baton like a deadly weapon while Luca could only facepalm as she looked on...

A four-year-old, pocket- -

Eh?

Whaddya mean pretending to wield a sword doesn't fit Leyka's image?

Oh, come on. Surely she couldn't have spent all of her earliest years as a whiny crybaby. There must've been moments when her preschool aggressive side reared it's cute ugly head...moments when she found it more enjoyable to drop-kick Gergo than hug him dearly. Which was precisely why Luca wouldn't let her play with Goro - - one never knew when Leyka's play switch would flip from "Love & Peace" to "Lacerate & Punch". Which irked Mom to no end when Leyka whined that Luca wouldn't share. Which impelled Mom to force Luca to share by threatening either to send her to bed without dinner that evening, or to give her some "re-education" on good behavior by making her watch an episode of Metafalss' most notorious children's program, _The Happy Little Reyvateils_, a show so badly overrun with moralistic messages, smiling positivism and squishy personalities that hemorraged relentless do-gooder cheerfulness that even at Luca's tender young age it made her skin crawl. Which always got Luca to comply pretty quickly, but also sent her into fits of mother-hating angst - - Leyka never had to watch _The Happy Little Reyvateils_, but that was because Leyka was Mom's favorite. Which occasionally spurred Luca to interfere with Leyka's Goro-playing by sitting on him, claiming she just needed a soft spot to sit on at that very moment. Which prompted Leyka to protest that there were pillows on their beds that Luca could sit on, as she tugged fruitlessly at the stuffed Pippen pinned down by Luca's pouty patoot. Which prompted Luca to counter that the pillows were too far away. Which drove Leyka to call for reinforcements by crying out, "Mommmmmmm!" Which forthwith got Luca's butt off the Pippen, as well as got a hand clapped over Leyka's mouth as Luca hissed, "Okay! Okay! You can play with him! Just don't call Mom!" and then proceeded to occupy herself nonchalantly in case Mom came stomping to investigate. Ahh...such a joy to watch young sisters playing together.

And before any of you deeply hardcore Ar tonelico fans out there protest, _'B-But, Luca wouldn't treat Leyka like that! She _loved_ Leyka! That was why she plotted and schemed to find her by any means necessary, using and manipulating others to her advantage in her search!'_, bear in mind that this was _before_ Leyka had been so rudely hauled off by the Grand Bell, at a time when Luca had no reason to suspect that Leyka would suddenly be punished with a very long and nasty Time-Out in a cold, dark I.P.D. lab. One doesn't appreciate what one has until it's gone...

"Not me," professed Infel, making a sudden appearance in the narrative for no logically plausible reason. "_I_ appreciated Nenesha for everything she was worth in all the times we shared together."

Yeah, and you're still bitter about it now that she's gone, so, bad example. Now go away - - you don't have a place in this fic. But you do get to have a role in a different one...if it ever gets written. So, see you then.

Infel's face darkened. "I know what you're talking about. And that fic idea of yours is insanely stupid."

So? At least you get to team up with Nenesha again, eh? Now will you please go away if the narrator hands you a cute Nenesha plushie made by Tomy?

"I'm _not_ a little kid!" Infel bristled. "You can't placate my sensibilities with a stuffed toy!"

Fine, fine. We'll just do this the hard way, then.

Suddenly, a gigantic weight marked "16 TONS" came rushing down upon Infel's head. She dodged just in time, then fled the scene as more 16-ton weights crashed down behind her while yelling something in the Pastalia dialect about fanfic writers all being a bunch of otaku idiots. Hypocrite. You oughta see some of the doujin works _she's_ written. They're pretty tasty.

Uhhh...where were we again? Oh yeah - - bad old days, four-year-old pocket-something.

A four-year-old, pocket-sized version of Kanna Ileris, complete with feisty strawberry blonde pigtails, but at her present age accessorized with cute poofy Poms at the hair ties - - which lent a huge boost to her d'awwww stats - - held her mother's hand as they walked down the Pastalian streets of the Tsuruya shopping district. She'd only been here a few times before, and her curious green eyes looked about her in wonder and fascination. Her mother had only been here 584 times before, and her listless brown eyes looked about her with dreariness and irritation. Sucks to be old, eh? Well, Kanna's mother wasn't exactly old by age, though she was pretty old at heart - - broken, dispirited, and generally sick of life and sick of being a mother. She had never even wanted children to begin with. Lucky you, Kanna-chan.

Glumly dragging her offspring along, the pale-skinned, bedraggled mother frowned as she quietly prayed, _Please dear Goddess, just let me get some damn shopping done today without this kid being a pain in the - -_

"Aspwin?" mini-Kanna piped up.

"Huh?" her mother slowly mumbled.

"Aspwin, Mama? Do you need to take aspwin again?" the little tyke burbled, seeing the pained, pathetic bag of blah that was her mother's face. Which was actually her mother's normal face any day of the week, but most days Kanna didn't notice because, for one thing, she didn't know any different - - she thought it was _normal_ for mothers to have an aura of sickly, dying puppies. And for another, she didn't see her mother much at home, being constantly booted out of their run-down apartment and told to go play outside in the rubble.

Her mother was taken aback. "No...uh, sw-sweetie. I'm perfectly fine," she said with all the vitality of a vacant and overgrown parking lot.

_I gotta do a better job of hiding all my pill-taking from this kid,_ she said gloomily to herself as she blankly turned away from those inquisitive green eyes.

Little Kanna wasn't buying it. Her four-year-old spidey-sense told her that Mama was about as fine as a sack of dead dandelions. She _never_ called her "sweetie". But seeing her mother acting two steps away from zombie-like didn't really worry or upset her. More like it just pissed her off. Well, perhaps that's kinda like being upset...in a feisty way.

What?

You didn't think little girls her age could get pissed off? Heh, watch; it's adorable.

Kanna-chan's chubby face hardened into a darling little scowl as she pouted fiercely alongside her oblivious mother. Her footsteps became footstomps, her pink-and-white-sneakered feet hammering into the airmetal grating beneath her. And just for good measure, she squeezed her mother's hand a few extra PSI harder. Even those cute Poms in her hair somehow looked a smidge grouchier.

For a short ways they walked together like this - - baggy-eyed mother, sour-faced youngster. Kanna-chan even thought at one point that _The Happy Little Reyvateils_ could probably teach her stupid mother a thing or two about being honest and telling the truth. Then the stomach-twisting nausea set in. Quickly she tried to put those frighteningly happy girls out of her thoughts. Watching the show had always made her physically ill and sick to her stomach.

Mercifully, a few moments later her pained eyes suddenly locked upon an item of interest. A colorful mural decorated the outer wall of the traditional weaponsmithing shop of the Grand Bell. Go fire up the game and pay a visit to Pastalia City if you don't recall what this is in reference to. Do it now. NOWWW! Or...continue reading if you like...ahem. It was a modest mural of simple design and muted colors, yet nevertheless it absorbed the attention of her unsophisticated young mind and made her forget all about those torturous smiles of glee. Whew. Anyway, what Kanna found most puzzling about this bit of Grand Bell graffiti was the string of odd white characters at the mural's lower edge.

"Mama, wha's dat?" she chattered, pointing at said characters.

Mama just kept walking.

"Mama! Wha's dat?" she chattered much more loudly.

Mama just kept ignoring.

"Mama! Wha's! Dat!" she insisted.

"Sushi," her mother mumbled without even turning to look.

"Dat's not sushi, Mama! Wook!" she hollered, angrily anchoring her feet down and pulling back on Mama's hand to make her stop.

Mama sighed...a heavy, weary, soul-draining sigh. Creakily she turned herself about, centimeter by centimeter.

"WHAT?" she said with a thud, sounding about ready to bring down a frying pan on those cute pigtails.

"Dat!" fumed Kanna, pointing.

"Hymmnos language."

"Hym-mos...?"

"It's what Reyvateils say when they sing. Now, come on!"

But Kanna had turned to gaze at the intricate lettering. Her attention was riveted.

"Or don't. I don't care. Later," her loving mother said casually as she turned and shuffled away.

Not really bothered or concerned by her mother's departure, Kanna-chan continued to ponder the Hymmnos characters. After all, it wasn't the first time Mama had walked off with a _'Later'_ and left her standing alone somewhere in a public place. She was used to it. Just like she was also used to hearing those three little words - - _I don't care_ - - from her mother's lips. Just another day in Kanna's happy little family.

C'mon, don't pity her, now. You know she turned out all right. Sort of.

Anyway, in the space of four seconds Kanna's facial expressions went from fascination, to puzzlement, and finally to frustration over trying to grasp the seeming complexity of the Hymmnos characters. And Reyvateils were supposed to be able to _sing_ this? To her post-toddler brain, it looked hard. _Really_ hard.

"I don' wanna be a Weyvateiw," she said at last, with a haughty toss of her head. And with her nose proudly in the air, she marched off in search of her rain-cloud mother.

Fourteen years later, Kanna the Reyvateil was busily grumbling internally at what Fate had dealt to her. Fate has an extremely sick sense of humor. Fate should sign up for Dive Therapy.

Wearing an expression of utter misery and disgust, she felt about ready to puke. Riding the Souffle Axis while one was in impending need of a diquility installation was never a good idea. Every bump, every jostle, every clackety-clack of the train ride sent nausea rippling through her frame. Why, oh why hadn't she taken care of it earlier when she first felt the need coming on hours ago? But she already knew why.

_Because it's a Frelia-damned pain in the ass,_ she griped to herself.

Yet now, even the advertisements plastered inside the train only seemed to be mocking her misery. One diquility ad in particular showed a calm-looking Reyvateil bathed in a gentle light, seated in a relaxed and tranquil pose with one knee raised, her bared leg accenting her naturalness and beauty...theoretically inviting the viewer to trust in the naturalness and beauty of the product. And to one side of the peaceful Reyvateil, written in a feminine font, were the words:

_**Sakura DiQ  
For a Smoother Installation**_

_'Smoother' installation...install this..._ the sickened Kanna thought sourly, surreptitiously flipping off Sakura DiQ and the calm-looking Reyvateil. Burl stood beside her, concerned over her present state. The others were quietly rejoicing that Kanna hadn't the energy to constantly exercise her loud mouth for once.

"Kanna...you okay?" Burl asked.

"...Do I look okay?" she breathed.

"Well..."

Duh.

"...I mean...is there anything I can do for you?"

"...Yeah...you could let me puke on you."

Burl gave a polite laugh...one of those half-hearted laughs that's intended to help lighten an uncomfortable moment but instead just makes one sound like a total dork.

"Well that's not exactly what I meant..."

"Then don't talk to me," she exhaled, adding, "Please, just...not right now."

Burl grew quiet. Kanna saying _please_? She must be feeling _really_ sick. Likewise, this kind of joke must be _really_ lame, because it's been rehashed throughout comedic history.

Finally they arrived at their destination. Soon as Kanna was off the train, she made as steady a beeline as she could for the nearest public restroom to insert a life extender into herself. Burl offered to help but she insisted on doing it alone. She never was satisfied with how Burl handled that thing, anyway. Double entendre can be fun.

In a dilapidated nearby park that looked like it was more frequented by drug dealers than by children, she found just the place. Icky-looking, but at least it offered privacy. Quickly she stepped over to the women's side.

"Ohhh..." she heard a girl moan from within.

Kanna froze.

Not exactly the kind of thing she wanted to hear coming from a restroom like this. She paused in the doorway, listening, hoping that perhaps she had simply misheard. For a few moments she heard nothing.

"Aa...aahh!" she then heard the girl's voice cry, followed by a sharp, gasping intake of breath. Then an exhalation of, "Nnngh..."

Joy. Sounded like something was going on in there that she would rather not know about. Kanna was so thrilled that she frowned irritably.

Yet her eyes bugged out a little at what she heard next - - a _male_ voice, low and soft, as if hoping not to get caught.

"Is it hurting?" he said.

"A little..." the girl replied in a ragged voice.

"Sorry..."

"Mmmm...!" the girl grunted, sounding half in pain, half in pleasure.

"Maybe we should stop?" the guy said uncertainly.

"No, don't!" the girl gasped. "We have to finish...uhhh...!"

"You sure?"

"Yes, j-just finish it! Nnnghh-hh...!"

Kanna almost walked off out of sheer embarrassment. Seemed like some Reyvateil and her partner were already doing a diquility installation here. At least...she really hoped it was _just_ an installation.

But walking off would mean having to find another place. The men's side? No way. Yet there wasn't time to go anywhere else. Kanna already felt herself to be in a bad way. If she put it off any longer, she might collapse...then she really _would_ need Burl's help with the install. And that was just...

So, in typical Kanna-style, she went for the gusto. "'Scuse me! Comin' through! Gotta take care of some business here!" she boldly announced, striding in and picking a stall as far away as possible from where she perceived the couple's sounds to be coming from.

"What the - -?" the guy said with a start.

"Ah! Careful! Ow ow ow ow!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

Kanna felt bad for the poor girl. _Maybe startling them like that wasn't such a good idea,_ she thought as she adjusted her clothes to an indecent degree so she could insert the stupid thing. Fumbled installations were no fun, she knew from experience...and that guy sounded like he was fumbling all over the place now.

"Goddess it sucks being a Reyvateil," Kanna found herself muttering as she wobblingly rejoined her companions.

"Feeling better?" Burl inquired.

"Peachy," Kanna said wearily, looking hung over.

For a moment the narrator thought about putting a few words in Kanna's or C.P.'s mouth about diquility sometimes taking a while for the Reyvateil to feel the full effect. But being that everyone in their group should know this by now from having watched Kanna and Cloche go through it several times already, he opted to avoid having C.P. look stupid by making such an amnesiac comment.

"Thank you," said C.P.

As for Kanna, she plainly was not in the mood for making a bit of exposition.

"Got that right, fatso," she murmured.

Yet poor Kanna, having so rudely insulted the fanficcer who had written her very feistiness into being, quickly discovered that there would be a price to pay for her insolence...as a forgotten childhood terror was suddenly thrust back into her face.

"Hey, hey, Kanna!" Cloche bubbled happily. "Check this out! They're making a comeback!" And in her hand, centimeters from Kanna's eyes, was a plushie likeness of Rikkey the Reyvateil, host of _The Happy Little Reyvateils_, which Cloche had just purchased from a nearby vendor.

"Good morning-morning!" Cloche squeaked in a horrid tone like tortured mice, gleefully imitating Rikkey's infamous catchphrase.

Kanna's visceral reaction was immediate. Her stomach sank and gave a violent twist; she could no longer hold it in. Rushing to a nearby railing, she lost her breakfast and her lunch over the edge in a burst of hacking and gagging. Have fun blowing chunks out your nose, Kanna. Grin.

Meanwhile, on a level somewhere below...

A happy young couple strolled down a secluded alleyway shaded by the towering structures above. Between them they carried a clear plastic umbrella, and together they walked beneath it as the lovey-dovey sky shone down upon them.

"Why are we carrying an umbrella, anyway?" the girl laughed easily. "It's not like it ever rains in Metafalss!"

"Well, ya know..." the guy grinned sheepishly, it being his idea. "It's kinda, like, just a thing that lovers do, ya know?"

The girl began blushing like mad, laughing even more. "Oh, you! What kinds of things are you saying?" she said, giving the guy a light slap on the shoulder.

Such was the moment when Kanna's sicky-juice hit their umbrella like giant dollops of nasty mustard. Fabulous. They could even see every bit of it too, above and below, as they stood stunned in the aftermath of the sudden downpour. No, it may not rain in Metafalss. But it occasionally does vomit.

Back up above, Cloche had a confuzzled look on her face. Heh, typical.

"Did I do something wrong?" she wondered, clutching Rikkey uncertainly. Then she turned and faced the others. "All I did was show her the doll I bought..." she said, holding it up.

Lance and Burl both recoiled. Burl could only babble "Eeeee-hee-heee!" nonsensically as he threw his forearms up in defense, while Lance looked half-panicked. "Put that thing away, Cloche! It gives me the jeebies!"

"Whaat? But it's just a Happy Little Reyv - -"

"NOOO! Don't say it!" he blustered, slamming his hands over his ears. "Those things are evil! Pure evil in the form of six-year-old little girls!"

Cloche frowned. "No they're not! It was a cute show! It was happy and fun and I liked it! Besides..." she added matter-of-factly, "they're not all six. Rikkey here is eight."

Lance gave Cloche a long, icy, suspicious stare.

"So _that's_ what happened to you. That's why you're so...it all makes sense now!"

Now Cloche was getting pissed. "That's why I'm so _what?_ What's wrong with liking a show?"

"That show wasn't _normal,_ Cloche," Burl said tremblingly, backing away from Rikkey and her eternal grin. "_So_ not normal..."

"So what're you saying? That _I'm_ not normal?"

"W-Well..."

"Oh, fine!" Cloche said, stamping her foot. Then she turned and stomped off, ranting, "Forget it! As usual, everybody thinks I'm stupid!" as she went.

"Way to go, fellers," C.P. said to them after Cloche had gone. "You just hurt a girl's feelings."

"Don't say fellers," Lance countered. "It makes you sound _old_."

"Nice try. But you won't get to me that easily."

"Meh...well, what about you, C.P.? You didn't say anything about Cloche's plushie, but didn't the horribleness of that show creep you out?"

"I didn't watch Telemo shows as a kid."

Lance thought he heard just a touch of pride in C.P.'s tone, so he thought he'd try poking fun at her over it. He never learns. "Oooo-OOO-ooooh! Let me guess, you never watched the Tele 'cause you were too busy practicing your fighting techniques all the time, eh?"

C.P. stuck a finger in his face. "And how many times have I saved your butt for _precisely_ that reason? You're welcome." Then turning with a flourish, she too walked off, though coolly and unhurt, to let Lance ponder his own idiocy for a while.

"Why?" Lance drooped as she sauntered out of range. "Why can I never win against her? Whyyyy?"

"Because she's a badass, and you're not," said Burl simply.

Lance sighed and made a pouty face. "Meeh-meeh mh meeh myeeh-myeeh, meeh mh myeeh," he copycatted.

~.~.~

A few weeks later, it was Cloche's turn for an installation! Oh joy! Are we having fun in the Pippen Pub today, Cloche?

"Be quiet..." she mumbled, her head buried in her arms atop a dingy old table in the dark lounge, her drink untouched. With her, it always came on suddenly. Luckily, she wasn't very prone to collapsing. Unluckily, it still made her feel like her whole body had been smashed in a waffle iron.

Lance noticed that his partner was feeling poorly - - surprising. Anyway, he figured it would be kind of him to inquire upon her general state of health. And with a lady in such obvious distress, the situation also called for a measure of gentleness and chivalry.

"Yo, Cloche, ya feelin' all right?" he blurted, banging sharply on the table her head lay on a couple of times. When at first she only responded by wincing, he called out, "Yoo-hoo, Clochie-poo...Ar Ciel to Cloche," and banged the table a few more times for good measure.

"Dooonnnnnn't!" Cloche finally whined. It was a long, drawn out, pitiful-sounding whine, too, the kind of whine that tends to evoke more irritation than sympathy and just makes one want to choke the moe out of the whiny teenage girl.

"Wow, that was really annoying," Lance grinned. "What's the matter?"

Cloche mumbled something indistinctly.

"What?"

"D'ql..y," she mumbled a little louder, looking embarrassed.

"Sorry, didn't hear..."

"Diquility!" she blared irritably.

"Ah...is it that-time-of-the-three-months?"

She knew he'd say something like that. "Just hush, I don't feel good."

"May as well take care of it now, Cloche," Kanna advised.

"Don't wanna..." she whimpered, sounding very much like a chokable Hitotsubashi Yurie.

"It'll only get worse..."

Cloche sighed deeply. "I don't _wanna_ do it tonight. I'm not in the mood."

Lance sniggered. Kanna gave him a dry stare.

Minutes later, Cloche finally resigned herself to the inevitable. She dragged herself out of her chair, languidly snatching up her bag. "Can't take it anymore...gonna go put it in," she muttered.

"Don't'cha want me to give it to you?" Lance smirked.

"I'll do it to myself, thanks." She walked off gingerly, headed for their room at the inn a couple of buildings over.

"She'll do it to herself..." Lance was chortling. "Have fun!" he called after her.

"Shut UP!" she fired back over her shoulder.

"Sheesh," Kanna said blandly. "She could die, you know, and here you're crackin' stupid pervo jokes." She sucked down another swig of booze, her pigtails looking more tipsy than feisty now.

"What's the big deal?" he said blithely. "I just thought I'd help her install. It's in the middle of her back, you know...kind of a hard-to-reach spot," he finished, meaning her installer port.

After a pause, he couldn't resist adding slyly, "At least it's not in a really embarrassing place like someone I - -"

"I'm leaving," Kanna said abruptly, getting to her feet and clumsily knocking a chair aside as she haughtily walked off. These girls sure do walk off a lot in this episode. Anyone keeping count?

Once she was safely out of earshot, Lance pointed jealously at Burl. "_Four centimeters_ away from her _other_ installer port! Lucky!"

"Ahhh...if only you knew what it was like to do her installations..." Burl said with a smug, dreamy grin.

P.S. And what of C.P.? Well, she was just quietly glad that she was still wholly human. After all...one installer port for her to deal with was hassle enough.

_Don't remind me,_ she thought flatly.


	12. Have You Had Your Awkward Moment Today?

a/n: watching katanagatari, i got quite a laugh out of the first of shikizaki kiki's deviant blades: "Kanna The Obstinate".

* * *

**Ep. 10: Have You Had Your Awkward Moment Today?**

Lounging about on a railing overlooking the Sea of Death and the open sky, next to a sign that clearly read, "Do Not Lean On This Railing" and depicting a chibi little girl falling screaming to her death, Lance was talking on the telecell, looking casual. And oblivious.

Kanna happened to stroll up, bored and looking for some fresh air. And hoping Lance wouldn't fart.

"Yes," Lance said into the cell.

Kanna idly looked up at the sky.

"No," he said after a pause.

Kanna stretched.

"Yep."

Kanna yawned.

"Nope."

Kanna looked at the horizon blandly.

"Yes."

Pause.

"No."

_Real winner of a conversation there,_ she thought.

But his next monosyllable came out in a burst of surprise.

"What?"

Followed by another pause.

"Who?"

Though now he sounded incredulous.

"When?"

And perplexed.

"Where?"

And frustrated.

"Why?"

Finally he let out a sigh, exhaling one of those silly anime puffs of breath.

"How?"

A long pause. Kanna was getting suspicious.

"One," he said next.

And annoyed.

"Two."

This didn't sound right.

"Three?"

Who has conversations like this?

"Four!"

And he was starting to giggle, giving Kanna sidelong looks as if he thought he were some-kinda-funny.

"F-Five...hehheh..."

"Gimme that cell!" she blasted, nabbing it out of his paws and putting it to her ear to listen. "You're not having a real conversation! So quit sounding all - - huh? Hello? Who's this? Oh!"

It was their client, the rich lady from Pastalia.

"Ohhhhhhh, I'm terribly sorry! Ahahahahaha! Um, yes, this is Kanna Ileris... Yes, I work with Lance. I'm sorry about that, I didn't think Lance was really on the cell 'cause Lance is usually such an...er, I mean, that is..."

Brief pause while Kanna grew redder and redder in the face.

"Huh? Oh, no! No no no, gosh no, Cloche is his partner, ehehe...No, not Lady Cloche, a different Cloche...But yes, I am a Reyvateil. Oh? Er...thank you."

And now Kanna was twirling one of her pigtails in her fingers.

"Oh, we're-we're just peachy keen over here...crawling through dungeons, looking for l- - valuable items. You know, typical, everyday, adventure-type stuff, ahahaha... Okay! Yeah, you too! I'm sorry, once again! Okay, here's Lance..."

She handed the cell back wearing a giant sheepish grin. Lance looked about ready to take her cosmosphere, fold it four ways and shove it up her installer port.

"Sorry about that," Lance said to the rich lady. "Didn't expect my associate to so rudely interrupt our conversation. Anyway, where were we?"

Kanna walked off, feeling the utter fail in her soul. Another pause followed, before she heard Lance say:

"Six."

_I don't get it...I just don't get it..._ she babbled to herself.


	13. Ep 11: C․ P․ vs Milk, Round 4

a/n: yup, back with a new chap after, what, two years, maybe?

not that anyone's still reading this thing, haha. but hey, new material is new.

* * *

**_Suckage of Metafalss ep. 11: C.P. vs Milk, Round 4_**

Metafalss, the land of no moo-cows. A land that had long ago forgotten the ancient practice known as cow tipping. And the land wept not at the loss...it having always been such a goofball pastime for bored teenagers, anyway.

On this crispy morning, C.P. was strolling by herself along the train tracks nearby—

Hm...

Hang on a sec. Are there any farms on Metafalss? Any ranch lands? If not, where does all their food come from? Where are the rice paddies that make the rice for Jacqli's tasty Seafood Tales treats? Where do they keep the chickens that lay the eggs? Or for that matter, the chickens that they put in blenders for Luca's glass-o'-grease Chicken Soda?

Does anyone even care about all this?

...Meh.

On this crispy morning, C.P., who couldn't care less where her food came from, was strolling by herself along the train tracks nearby Sasha's General Store. Last night, Lance had thought to use the save point just outside her store as their campground for the night, and Sasha herself had come out to extend greetings to her front-porch campers (in her "Baby Gergo"-themed PJs, no less — d'awww already). She thought it only polite to do so, being that she was more or less hosting their campsite, as she had often done before for that other guy in glasses and his two squabbling chick-sisters. Yet C.P. noticed the pitiful, scared look that quickly came into Sasha's young eyes as she looked over her visitors:

— A skinny guy sporting a retarded-looking headband, a girlie tattoo on his arm, and a greasy smile that screamed, "I Raep Lolis"...

— Another guy who seemed rather blah and squinty-eyed, but carried a nasty-looking spiked-bat-slash-shotgun and wouldn't stop staring vapidly at Sasha...

— A feisty girl who wore a perennial look on her face as though she wanted to slug a few blockheads like a Lucy van Pelt in pigtails...

— Another girl, cute, whiny, neurotic, who looked sorely in need of antidepressants...or a security blanket...

— And herself, a warrior girl whose hard, steely stare could kill happiness at a hundred paces.

And so, C.P. suggested to Lance that they should find another spot to rest for the night, and leave the poor little shop girl be. Lance protested. C.P. insisted. Lance pitched a hissy fit befitting a twelve-year-old schoolgirl. C.P. plucked Rikkey the Reyvateil from Cloche's belt and tormented Lance with her, sticking the doll in his face until he was reduced to a cringing, jibbering idiot. By the time he recovered, they were already far away from Sasha's shop, with a frowning and pissy Cloche trying to assist him as he stumbled about. Meanwhile, Sasha couldn't suppress the impulse to latch all the bolts and locks on her doors after they left.

So, back to the crispy morning. Hi, Mr. Crispy Morning! How are you today? Crispy as overcooked bacon, you might say?

C.P. suddenly stopped, mid-stroll. She put face to palm.

Lovely weather for a stroll, isn't it, Mr. Crispy Morning? Oh, yes...the day feels warm and clean like freshly washed girl's underwear!

"Would you stop that⁉" C.P. snarled at the writer. "Are you even listening to yourself⁉"

But just then, C.P.'s eyeballs locked in on a young shota just outside of Sasha's shop, guzzling down a small jug of shiro-pan-colored liquid. Her eyes widened. She promptly forgot about the writer enjoying himself with needless references to panties as she hustled over to the lad, eager to ask him a question or three.

...

...Why the hell do some people call them "moo-cows", anyway?

"Excuse me...is that milk you're drinking?" said she, her hard steely stare suddenly gone, replaced with a look of girlish curiosity in her eyes that raised her kawaii stats by 44 points.

The boy swiveled an eye or two in her direction — most likely two. "Uh...yeah?" said he through his vitamin-D-fortified mustache.

"Is it good?" said she.

"Um...I guess?" said he, then after a pause, adding, "I-It's just regular milk, you know?" because it seemed to him that his answer of "I guess" wasn't satisfying that look of girlish curiosity in her eyes that was beginning to creep him out.

"No, I mean it's not curdled or anything, is it?" said she, drawing closer.

"Uh, no?" said he, drawing back. "But why are—?"

"Where did you get it⁈? Please tell me!" said she, suddenly bursting forth with antsy energy that was completely un-warrior-like, and startling the boy into doing an involuntary mouse impression:

"Eek! Th-that store over there?" whimpered he, with tremulous finger pointed in Sasha's General Store's general direction.

"Thank you! Thank you very much!" gushed she, and she turned and sprinted across the platform to Sasha's, post-haste.

The boy and his mustache were left confuzzled over their strange encounter with the girl with the vicious chain whip that looked like it had killed many kittens in its time, but whose owner seemed strangely desperate to do her body good. And as the writer pondered how sorely outdated that last reference was, the boy gradually recovered and thought to himself, _'Well that was...weird?'_, thus concluding his appearance in this fic, in which every line of dialogue he had was in the form of a question. For some reason.

Meanwhile, somewhere above Sasha's entryway, a door chime was quietly minding its own business when it was suddenly bashed into a jangly spazz as C.P. burst through the door. She rapidly scanned the shop — dimly lit, old wood everywhere, papers scattered on the floor, an old fish chain and a cobwebby lamp hanging from the ceiling, tattered boxes piled in one corner (sheesh, Sasha, clean up your shop once in a while), a twintailed little Sasha looking up at her in surprise, and beside the cash register, a black-and-white cow-shaped jar with a label taped to it that read "Tips". A-hurp-a-durp. Then, she spotted her target: a refrigerated storage bin of cold snacks for sale. She rushed to it and threw the lid open — sodas, teas, fruit juices, overcaffeinated "energy drinks", cheese sticks, cheesecakes, cheese crackers (yup), cans of biscuit dough (yup yup), and a vacuum-sealed pack of fresh squid (de geso) —

And the milk?

Sold out.

Yeah, you saw that coming, didn't'cha?

Slowly, sorrowfully, C.P. sank to her knees before the refrigerated bin, eventually coming to rest her forehead against its side. The bin's refrigeration cycle kicked on, and for a few hum-filled moments it was the only sound she could hear. Well, except for the distant belch from the boy outside who was enjoying the last jug of milk in the store, that is. Gradually though, she became aware that a little girl was repeatedly addressing her:

"...Onee-san? ...Excuse me, onee-san? Are you okay? ...Um...onee-san?"

C.P. dazedly looked up into Sasha's concerned face. She said, "Huh?"

Sasha's mental gears of facial recognition lit up. Wait...gears don't light up. Oh, whatever.

"Oh! You're one of the girls from last night!" said Sasha, while involuntarily taking a step back away from C.P. She then dashed off to her back office with a hastily blurted "Um...'scuse me for just a sec!", rummaged hurriedly through the drawers of her grandmother's old office desk, and, finding what she was looking for, held it up: a cute little handheld taser with flower and kitty stickers on it. She briefly tested it and watched the sparks dance, then stashed it away in the folds of her merchant's kimono, just above the waistband of her Pippen-print panties. Nice alliteration, eh? Okay, not really. Anyway, she then hopped back out to the shop area, feeling 73% safer.

"Sorry about that, I had some Puchi-eggs cooking in the back...um, can I help you?" Sasha said.

It's '_may_ I help you', Sasha-tan. But C.P., who couldn't care less about proper speech, or anything else right now, still hadn't recovered herself, and was still on her knees in front of the bin of cold goodies. "...Huh? ...Oh. ...Uh...sorry..." she mumbled, and sluggishly she hauled herself to her feet. "I was just looking for some milk, that's all," she said, gazing mournfully into the still-opened bin.

"Oh, no! I'm sorry, we just sold our last one!" bubbled Sasha.

"Oh. Yeah. I see," flatlined C.P.

Awkward pause.

"But, um, we'll be getting another shipment next week!" Sasha said hopefully.

"Really? Cool. That's great," flatlined C.P.

Another awkward pause.

"Er...w-would you like me to reserve some for you?"

"Huh? No. S'okay. I'm an adventurer, y'know," flatlined C.P.

"Oh. I see," said Sasha, totally not seeing.

Again an awkward pause.

"So I go all over Metafalss and stuff. And do adventuring-type things, y'know," flatlined C.P.

"Oh. Okay," said Sasha. She sighed inwardly. _I have to deal with one of __**these**__ customers this early in the morning?_ she thought. Not _these_ meaning adventurers, of course; _these_ meaning the customers that would give any retail worker the jeebies, the ones that acted like they were two bananas short of a fruit basket. You know. _Those_ customers.

Awkward pause, once more. Yup.

"So I dunno where I'll be next week..." flatlined C.P.

"Awww, that's too bad," said Sasha in her "shopkeeper's sympathy" voice. Then, quickly switching to her "helpful salesgirl" tone, she added, "Well, um, is there anything else you need? We have plenty of stock for all kinds of battle items and healing items, and I can help you find just about anything an adventurer would— ...oh...uh, okay."

Sasha trailed off as C.P. trudged away without a word, heavy-hearted and saggy-shouldered. The door chimes above the entryway made barely a jingle as she exited the shop. But just before she departed, she stopped in the entryway and, silhouetted against the morning light, gave a slight turn of her head.

"Hey..." said she.

"Um, yes?" said the other she.

"You know those 'Have You Seen Me?' pictures of the kids they put on the milk cartons?"

"Uh-huh?"

And finally, the level-boss awkward pause, longer and more awkward than any of the others. Sasha waited for C.P. to finish...waited and listened to the breeze blowing past her entryway, waited and heard the sounds of the morning birds cheeping, waited and heard the refrigerated snack bin clunking around inside of itself as it shut off its cycle, and thought in the back of her mind somewhere that she really needed to get that dang thing looked at.

But in the end, all C.P. said was:

"...Never mind."

And her silhouette walked off into the morning.

Sasha's brain cells chugged away at the weirdness of that last comment, but nothing between those two cute twintails could figure out what the heck that was all about. But somehow, her general sense of safety had just plummeted by 14%. No loli wanted to end up on a milk carton.

She patted her trusty taser. At least she wasn't unarmed. And with that reassuring thought, she shifted her mental gears out of neutral and cheerfully readied herself for another capitalistic day of free enterprise. Incidentally, this might be as good a time as any to insert some kind of cheap-shot "Capitalism, ho!" reference, mwehehe...

"I'm _not_ saying that!" Sasha flatly told the writer.

Dangit.


End file.
